


I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)

by LadyVioletHummingbird



Category: Groundhog Day (1993), Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-03-30 08:44:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13947972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVioletHummingbird/pseuds/LadyVioletHummingbird
Summary: Jamie Fraser is a successful news anchor in London and is none-too-pleased at being sent on assignment to his home town in Scotland.  Having not been back in over a decade Jamie can’t wait to leave, a plan delayed when he is forced to relive the same day over and over and over...(An Outlander/Groundhog Day inspired work)





	1. The Star of the Show

Jamie checked his reflection in the auto-cue monitor to see if there was anything stuck in his teeth. Of course there wasn’t. His teeth looked great - hell, all of him looked great and he knew it, too.

“Five minutes ‘til we’re on air everyone” announced the Assistant Director as she breezed past with a clipboard, her gaze lingering on Jamie as she did so. Jamie shot her a smile, which turned into a smirk when he saw her blush as she continued around the set to ready everyone. Jamie knew the effect he had on women and was no stranger to them tripping over - both figuratively and literally - in order to help him get what he wanted.

 

It had been eleven years since Jamie had arrived in London and in that time he’d gone from cadet reporter to star of the show - well almost. James Fraser - as he was known on air - was the evening newsreader for BBC 4 and five nights a week his face was broadcast across the Greater London area. But Jamie had his sights on bigger things - becoming an international correspondent and travelling the world to cover news stories that really mattered. He’d paid his dues doing dog-show stories and ‘butter versus margarine’ exposés, now he was poised to take things to the next level and he was more than ready for it.

 

The broadcast began and Jamie started to read the news with practised ease. A smile here and a knowing nod there, he was in his element. Looking past the red light on the top of the camera he was presenting towards, Jamie saw a flash of chestnut curls. No, not chestnut, more than that. All different kinds of brown, dark in some spots and lighter in others, almost silver the way the bright studio lights were hitting it. He’d never seen anything like it before. Outwardly he was calm, but inside he could feel his heart start to beat immediately faster. Perhaps he’d had one too many coffees before the broadcast? He threw to the sports presenter Tom Christie and with the camera no longer on him he was able to see who the curls belonged to. She was a tallish woman with creamy white skin and eyes the warm gold colour of aged whisky. So used to it being women who were the ones swooning over him, Jamie refused to accept that the mere sight of a woman could have such a visceral reaction in him.

 

With the programme over and the credits rolling it was standard for the presenters to chat together, stacking papers and providing a background until the broadcast finished. Jamie leaned over to Tom and subtly indicating his head in the direction of the woman with the curls, asked: “Who’s that then?”

“Her name’s Claire Beauchamp and she’s the new producer. She’s replacing Arch Bug, the old boy’s finally retired and Claire’s come from BBC Wales”

“So she’s Welsh?”

“No, English actually, from Oxford, hasn’t been in the city long from what I hear so she won’t have heard of all your dazzling work, Jamie”

Jamie shot Tom an unamused look. “Well she’s got her work cut out for her”

“Putting up with you, you mean?”

“All comedy today aren’t we Tommy? Let’s be serious here, I’m sure she’ll see working with me as the amazing opportunity that it is. Most women do…”

 

“Most women what?” Claire had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Uncharacteristically caught off guard Jamie felt his face flush and saw a small smile on the edge of Claire’s mouth as she noticed. Damn. Recovering, he shot out a hand and flashed one of his ‘tv smiles’ at her.

“James Fraser, pleased to meet you”

The smile seemed to have no effect and instead of reaching out her hand Claire regarded him curiously before responding

“I’ve heard a lot about you Jamie, hopefully not all of it true?”

“What’s that supposed to mean then?”

Claire shrugged in reply before walking off to speak to a cameraman. Jamie looked after her, confused. What had she heard about him? And why did he feel like he’d just run a mile when he’d been sitting down for the last hour?

“Smooth, Fraser.” Tom snickered, seeing Claire failing to react the way Jamie had come to expect all women would around him.

“Shut it, Tom. I dinna care what she thinks. For your information there is a major network interested in me”

“The home shopping network?”

Jamie rolled his eyes and got up, shoving his chair in a little too forcefully as he did so.

 

A short while later Jamie was sitting in the office of the show’s Executive Producer, John Grey.

“Any updates from BBC World? You said they loved my showreel”

“They’re definitely keen, we’ve all agreed that a reporter of your caliber can’t be stuck behind the news desk forever…”

“Exactly John, we both know I’ve skills aplenty that need to be utilised. There are important stories to tell and it takes important people to tell them”.

Jamie smiled to himself as he said this, he’d rehearsed that particular phrase in his head and was pleased to be able to trot it out. He was so wrapped up in himself that he failed to see the expression on John’s face.

“See the thing is Jamie, we need to cover an event up in Scotland and think this would be a great chance for you to step out from behind the desk.”

“Scotland?”

“Yes, the Highlands actually. Broch Mordha is the town.”

“Oh no.”

“You know the place?”

“You know I know the place. I’m not going there John!”

“C’mon Jamie, we need someone to cover the Imbolc festival”

“No. No. Absolutely not.

“You’ll love it. It's the festival of the coming Spring…”

“I ken what it is and I’m not doin’ it” his accent was becoming thicker as his ire increased.

“Just think Jamie, fresh flowers, spring lambs…”

“Bollocks. Listen John, I’ve been at this station for seven years and I’m the anchor of the news. I’m not going to that Scottish backwater to cover pagan claptrap”

“It’d be a great opportunity”

“Forget it. Send Tom.”

“Well I’m not asking Jamie, I’m telling. BBC World want to see you cover this and I’ve already told them you’ll do it.”

Jamie said nothing and continued to glower.

“You’ll leave first thing tomorrow, our new producer Claire Beauchamp will be going with you and Angus Mhor will be your cameraman.”

“Angus? You’re really pushing me here John.”

“Have fun Jamie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having never written anything before I have gone back and forwards about posting this. It’s an idea that has kept bouncing around in my head so I decided to take a leap of faith and give it a go.


	2. You take the high road and I’ll take the low road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie reluctantly travels back to his home town of Broch Mordha

Every mile they drove north Jamie’s irritation increased. Going back to Scotland was one thing, but to be doing it for such a joke of a story was almost more than he could stand. They’d been on the road about fifteen minutes before Jamie wanted to punch Angus in the face. That had been six hours ago and the urge hadn’t lessened any.

“See the thing yon southrons dinna ken about the Highlands is that it’s just as much its own country as Scotland itself, eh Jamie?”

Jamie rolled his eyes. Angus, like Jamie, was from one of the small villages that peppered the Highlands near Inverness. For whatever reason, the BBC always felt the need to stick the two together on assignments and given Angus’ love of talking all things Scotland and Jamie’s dislike of the subject, they clashed every time. On and on Angus had droned about ‘the Highland way of life’ and Jamie had had a gutful. Claire however still seemed interested, although god knew why?

“Angus, do you have anything to talk about that doesn’t revolve around clan politics?”

“Aye, I can tell ye all about the Caledonian Thistle Football Club”

“Hard pass” declared Jamie as he fiddled with the radio, anything to stop Angus’ incessant prattling.

 

The busy cities were gradually replaced with snow-capped munroes and frosty glens, not that Jamie was paying much attention. He sat in the front seat of the van while Angus drove, leaving Claire sitting in the back next to all their gear. On the pretence of checking his hair - something Jamie was wont to do regularly - he flipped down the passenger side mirror and used it to look at Claire. The golden eyes that he’d been so entranced with yesterday seemed to sparkle now they were in daylight and out of the artificial brightness of the studio. And then when she laughed…all at once he stopped himself, why was he thinking this way? He was here to work and after this quick overnight trip he’d be back in London and hopefully signing a contract with BBC World.

Claire interrupted Jamie’s thoughts. “So have either have you been to the Imbolc festival before? I’ve heard that it dates back over 1000 years; it sounds amazing”  
‘Amazingly boring’ Jamie thought but instead replied “Fancy yourself as a bit of a history buff do you?”

“Not exactly, but a festival based around the hearth and home sounds magical in a way, I think. People coming together with their families to celebrate the coming spring; what a fantastic tradition to capture for our story.”

While she was talking Jamie couldn't help but notice the way her eyes lit up as she spoke about something she was clearly passionate about. Damn; he was doing it again.

“Claire, it’s a bunch of locals pouring sheep’s milk onto the ground”

“Och - dinna listen to him Claire” said Angus “The milk is an offering to St Brigid, but Imbolc began when the _Cailleach_ —the divine hag” Angus waggled his eyebrows suggestively before continuing— “gathers her firewood for the rest of the winter. According to legend, if she wishes to make the winter last a good while longer, she makes sure the weather on Imbolc is bright ‘n’ sunny, so she can gather plenty of firewood. So if it’s foul weather tomorrow it means the _Cailleach_ is asleep and winter is almost over.

“To sum up, we’re here for a glorified weather report” Jamie grumbled.

“Well I think it’s going to be wonderful” declared Claire. “Let’s talk logistics. We’ll be filming at a local farmhouse, owned by the same family that owns the field where the festival is going to be held. I’ve seen some pictures and its a gorgeous place called Lallybroch”

Of course they were filming at Lallybroch. It was far too much to ask that he would be able to slip in and out of town unnoticed.  Jamie’s lips turned white as they pressed into a tight thin line.

“Is something the matter Jamie? I spoke to the owners yesterday and they were fine to be part of the story”

“You spoke to them?”

“Yes, a nice woman by the name of” - Claire consulted the folder she was reading from “Jenny Murray”

“Wonderful, just wonderful.” Jamie echoed Claire’s word from earlier through gritted teeth.

“What am I missing here?”

“It’s my family home” Jamie said quietly, the effort to keep his irritation under control meaning he wasn’t able to speak any louder.

“Oh gosh, I wish I’d known before I booked the accommodation in Broch Mordha”

Jamie said nothing, Claire continued

“I’m really sorry Jamie; I hope they won’t be too disappointed that we haven’t arranged for you to stay”

“I doubt that. I haven’t spoken to them in over ten years”

“Ten years? What happened?”

“Nothing really, I moved to London, they’re all still up here. I dinna want to talk about it”

Angus and Claire exchanged a look that Jamie pretended he didn’t see and the rest of the trip was conducted in silence.

 

A hour or so later they arrived in Broch Mordha, pulling up in front of a tired looking two story stone building. A painted sign on the front read ‘MacKenzie Motel’. Claire and Angus got out of the van and started unloading the bags. Jamie exited slowly, a mixed look of disgust and horror on his face.

“Claire I’m not staying here. I can’t. The daughter of the owner is obsessed with me and will be straight to the nearest wise woman for a love potion as soon as she knows I'm here”

“I thought you said you hadna been back in ten years Jamie?” asked Angus.

“Ten years, ten decades, it doesn’t mean a fig to her. Trust me. This lass is obsessed with me.”

Not to be deterred Jamie turned towards Claire, putting a hand on her shoulder to emphasise his point.

“Seriously Claire, you should be worried. She’ll likely put an ill-wish under your bed if she sees you with me”

Angus rolled his eyes “Wise woman? Ill-wish? What century do you think we’re in Jamie?”

“Claire, I can’t stay here”

“You’re not staying here Jamie” Claire explained calmly

“I’m not?”

“No, I’ve booked you into a lovely little place called ‘Mrs Baird’s B&B’. Angus is just dropping me off first”

“Oh. Well ok then. Thank you, Claire”

“No problem. Now are you going to tell me what an ‘ill-wish’ is?”

Jamie saw Angus starting to open his mouth to answer

“Don’t you start Angus, they’re a real thing!” Jamie turned his attention back to Claire “An ill-wish is something crazy women use to curse those standing between them and the object of their affection.”

“Don’t worry Jamie, I don’t think I’m in any danger from where I’m standing”

If Jamie hadn’t been starting wide-eyed at the building looking for any signs of the woman he was avoiding then he might have noticed the teasing in Claire’s voice. She cleared her throat before continuing,

“Would you like to come to dinner with Angus and me?”  
“No thanks, I need my beauty sleep. It’s a lot of work to be this good looking”

He tried to wink at Claire, but a genetic anomaly meant Jamie wasn’t able to, so his attempt just looked like a long blink. Not knowing this, Claire assumed he was being serious and smiled back at him awkwardly as Jamie got back into the van.

“Lassies with love potions, putting in ‘hard work’ to be good looking? What a diva” Angus shook his head as he and Claire giggled together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading chapter one and for all your positive comments! Putting one’s writing out there is scary but I am inspired every day by so many talented writers in this fandom; hopefully it gets a bit easier as time goes on...right?? ;-)


	3. Today is the First Day of the Rest of Your Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs Baird’s B&B is as wonderful as Jamie though it’d be...

Walking into Mrs Baird’s B&B felt like stepping back in time. Polished wood furniture and an abundance of doilies gave the place a slightly musty feel. The owner - presumably Mrs Baird? - was an older lady who greeted Jamie as he entered.

“Good eve’nin to ye Mr Fraser, welcome to our wee B&B. Breakfast tomorrow is from seven. Will ye be needin help with ye fire?”

“My fire? There isn’t any central heating?”

“Good gracious no, not in this auld place! We’ve fireplaces in each of the rooms, ye just need to bank it by…”

Jamie stopped listening as he checked his phone - 8% battery. Damn, it must’ve run down searching for a signal out here. With further annoyance he realised he’d left his charger in the van. His phone would be dead by morning so he wouldn't be able to use it as his alarm. The old lady was still talking, Jamie cut her off.

“I'm sure I’ll be warm enough. I’ll be needing a wake up call booked for 6.00am though”

“We have clock radios in all our rooms, they also play CDs ” Mrs Baird proudly told Jamie. A CD player? Who even used those things anymore? Much less travel with discs to play on it?

“Right, well that’ll have to do. Where can I find the wifi password please?

Mrs Baird looked at him blankly.

“For the internet? In my room?”

“Oh, the World Wide Web! Why didn’t you say so laddie? We recently had a _personal computer_ installed in our lounge which yer welcome to use to _go surfing_ ”

Jamie didn’t need to see it to know it’d be dial up.

No phone, no internet, no central heating. His time in the Highlands couldn't be over soon enough.

                                                                                                            ***

6:00am and the radio in Jamie’s room sprang to life.

_“But I would walk 500 miles and I would walk 500 more, just to be the man who walks a thousand miles to fall down at your door. La da da da, La da da da, La da da da, La da da da…”_

“Bloody Proclaimers; has Scotland produced nothing else since the 80s?” Jamie grumbled as he rolled over and out of bed.

_Christ! The room’s fucking freezing!_

The fire had completely died in the night, leaving just a pile of cold ashes. He should've listened to the owner and done something about it; what was it she’d said? Banking? Given the lack of open fireplaces in London apartments it hardly seemed worth his while learning how to do it or to really even listen to what the old crone was saying.

“Good mornin' Highlanders!” chirped the morning radio announcer “… and Lowlanders if ye've bothered t'get out of bed!”

Cue the over the top laughter at a joke Jamie didn't think all that funny.

“Imbolc festival is today an' we'll see if we're gettin' another 3 months of winter!”

“Brrrrrr….this isna Ibiza that’s for sure!”

More fake laughter.

Jamie dressed quickly as the announcers prattled on in the background. So much excitement over what? Flowers poking through the snow and some lambs bleating? Madness. Couple of hours to get the story in the can and he'd be back on the road to London. Jamie smiled as he thought of his remotely activated central heating and how toasty his apartment would be when he finally got home.

Mrs Baird greeted Jamie as he entered the breakfast room.

“Good Mornin’ to ye Mr Fraser - Happy Imbolc Festival! How about some breakfast; growin' lad like you’s got to eat!”

“I don't suppose you'd have any pressed juice?”

“Depressed juice? What happened to the apples and oranges to make them so sad?”

Jamie laughed weakly as he tried not to roll his eyes. He couldn't wait to get away from the Highlands and their terrible attempts at humour.

“Shall I hold your room for ye Mr Fraser? Surely ye’ll be staying for the festivities tonight?”

“As ‘magical’ as a knees-up with some bleating sheep sounds, I’ll be on the road to London by noon. Good day to you Mrs Bird”

“Baird”

“That's the one”

And with that Jamie bid a hasty exit and stepped out onto the street. Hopefully Angus and Claire wouldn't be too much longer and they could get this thing over with.

                                                                                                                 ***  
With no phone to distract him, time seemed to crawl. Jamie was staring at a lamppost when he heard yelling coming from behind him.

“Jamie! Jamie Fraser! I thought it was you!”

Jamie turned to see a rather portly bearded man heading towards him.  Looking confused, Jamie tried to think where he knew the guy from. Or perhaps he was just a fan of the show?

“How are ye man?”

The stranger proceeded to grab Jamie by the shoulder whilst simultaneously scuffing up Jamie’s hair.  Having spent 15 minutes getting it into the style he liked for the taping Jamie was none too pleased.

“What do ye think you’re doing?!”

“Och now Jamie, no need to be like that, it’s me - Rupert! Do ye no’ ken yer own cousin?!”

Of course - Rupert MacKenzie, Jamie’s third cousin twice removed. Jamie hadn’t seen him since they were kids, playing with broadswords made from sticks. It was then Jamie noticed the logo on the shirt Rupert wore ‘MacKenzie Motors’; so he was working at the family garage then.

“Hello Rupert”

“Good to see ye man! How are ye?! When did ye get here? Have ye seen Jenny?”

“Um…no, just here for work. I’m leaving later this morning”

“Leaving? But we need to catch up! I’m playing shinty today - ye’ve got to come!”

Jamie had zero desire to see a bunch of middle aged men wheeze around a shinty field yelling obscenities at each other. As for catching up with Rupert, what was there to say? Jamie was a popular and successful news anchor and Rupert was still here, doing tyre and oil changes.  Looking around frantically for a diversion Jamie saw the approaching BBC 4 van.

“Rupert, I’ve got to go.” Jamie paused awkwardly “Be well” and then turned on his heel without so much as a backward glance. Best not let Rupert get his hopes up.

 

The side door on the van slid open and a smiling Claire motioned for Jamie to hop in.

_“Madainn mhath!”_

“Huh?”

“Oh” said Claire, blushing. “I was trying to say good morning in Gaelic, must've mucked up the accent terribly!”

The accent had been terrible - not that Jamie was about to tell Claire that - he’d found her attempt adorable.

“No no, it was fine Claire; it’s just that I haven’t heard it spoken for a very long time”

“You didn’t study the language at school?”

“Aye I did, but not much need for that reading the news in London”

Claire looked disappointed at not being able to practice her pronunciation skills any further and opened her mouth to say as much, but Jamie’s focus was already elsewhere. Looking out the window she followed his gaze; eyes riveted to a large house nestled amongst rolling hills. Early morning mist mingled with smoke snaking out of its chimneys and a black slate roof stood in sharp relief to the greenery surrounding it.

“Is that…?”

“Aye. Lallybroch.”

He was back.


	4. Field of Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imbolc gets underway...for the first time.

Their van drove slowly under the stone archway that marked the entrance to Lallybroch. Jamie looked up to see the ancient Fraser crest that sat proudly in the centre, as it had for hundreds of years. After parking and unloading the equipment they walked towards the main house which loomed large as candles blinked in all the windows. There where children everywhere. Running, screaming, laughing; all brandishing what looked like green grass crosses?

“Ooh, ooh those are the crosses of St Brigid!” Claire clapped her hands together enthusiastically. “Angus, make sure we get lots of shots of those will you?”

“Aye, Claire”

“And the house, make sure you get lots of shots of that too, perhaps panning up from the fields? Or maybe it should be from the house across to the fields? I want to make sure we get it from every angle. Angus?”

“Dinna fash, I heard ye!” Angus chuckled at Claire’s child-like excitement.

Lallybroch certainly looked different from the last time Jamie had seen it. Surrounding the house were dozens of large torches with groups of men walking around to light them. The fire combined with the early morning light gave the place the feel of another era. Next to the main house, a field had been transformed with stands that displayed the different trades in the community, more torches and an abundance of stalls selling food and fresh produce. The whole place was teeming with people; it felt like most of the Highlands had turned out for the occasion. Jamie begrudgingly acknowledged that a lot of work had gone into the celebration of Imbolc but he was nowhere near as impressed as Claire and Angus were. Being from the area, Angus was clearly delighted to be catching up with family and old friends. Claire looked enraptured by everything and not five minutes in she was happily accepting a St Brigid cross that one of the children gifted her.

“I’ve got such a good feeling about today! To begin let’s walk the whole site so we know where to get the best shots from.”

Angus nodded.

“Sounds like a plan to me Claire, let’s start with the festival field shall we?”

Jamie trailed along behind the two of them in silence.

 ***

Despite the crowds, he saw her straight away. Deep blue eyes, the twin of Jamie’s own, met his across the field and immediately narrowed. Even with the space of a hundred feet between them, Jamie could tell she had her dander up. He certainly didn’t feel like approaching and wondered if it’d be possible to keep his distance the whole time they were there? Probably not, Claire and her exuberance were like a runaway train and there was no pulling that back to the station. Sure enough, as soon as Claire spotted her she ran over - chestnut curls flying - and enthusiastically stuck out her hand:

“Hello! You must be Jenny Murray - I’m Claire Beauchamp, we spoke on the phone the other day?”

“Pleased to meet ye, Claire; Happy Imbolc and welcome to our little home”

“Oh, the pleasure’s all mine; this place is amazing! The pictures hardly do it justice. Thank you so much for having us”

“Nay, 'tis no trouble. We’re very proud of what we’ve done up here and would love to share it with yon TV viewers”  
  
The smile she’d had for Claire morphed into a sneer as she turned to Jamie;

“Weeelll if it isna the King of Men, come back to visit the commoners”

“Dinna be calling me that, Janet”

“Well I havena had much occasion to call you anything lately, brother”

An extremely awkward pause followed, interrupted by an exaggerated cough for attention:

“I’m Angus - cameraman and _driver to the stars_ ”

His joke fell flat as Jamie and Jenny stood staring each other down like two boxers in a ring.

“Pleased to meet ye Angus. Tis a good thing you were’na driving Jamie; you’d have had to ask for directions to find the place”

“Hilarious; been working on that line for a while have ye, Jen?”

“Well I’ve had 11 years to plan”

“Funny, I thought…”

Before Jamie could finish Claire grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him away.

“Do you think you could refrain from the sniping until we’ve filmed the story at least?” she hissed.

“She started it!”

“What are you, five? Muzzle it, Fraser.”

“Yeah, but she…”

“Enough! We’ve got work to do. Hard as it is to believe, today is about families celebrating Imbolc, not about you. Now, I’m going to stay here to speak with Jenny and you’re going with Angus to start setting up for our first shots. Is that clear?”

Jamie was annoyed at receiving a dressing down from Claire, but he was also undeniably attracted. It was a rare woman that stood up to him and she’d done it without missing a beat. Passion mixed with feistiness, an intoxicating combination, that.

***

The morning mist had melted to reveal a crisp blue sky and as the sun began to show itself the chill in the air was replaced with a hint of warmth to come. Angus set up the tripod while Jamie stood alongside him, kicking a clump of thistles about with his foot.

“Ye ken this isn’a funeral, aye?”

“Yes, thank you Angus”

“Could've fooled me”

Whatever, thought Jamie. Whilst Angus seemed thrilled to be back in the Highlands and reconnecting with people, Jamie felt isolated.

 

He looked over and saw Claire talking with Jenny. Showing none of her coldness from before, Jenny laughed at something Claire said before pointing out several of Lallybroch’s features. Jamie knew what she was saying even without being able to hear her. The rambling roses that clung to the side of the building; the winter frost no match for several determined blooms that had begun to show themselves. The whitewashed outbuildings that had once held farming equipment but had been converted to accommodate excited holidaymakers. And of course there was the crumbling Broch that had somehow managed to stay upright even after all this time. Jamie turned away and tried to feign interest in whatever Angus was doing.

An older lady in a tea cosy-style beanie was standing a few feet away; eyeing Jamie as she tried to place him. Not his desired demographic but Jamie was certainly used to being recognised in public. The lady approached.

“Excuse me, are ye James Fraser?”

Jamie gave a practised smile - he thought of this look as ‘modest but handsome.’ He used the facial expression when meeting fans; it fooled them into believing that an insignificant moment was somehow as important for him as it was for them.

“Yes I am”

Turning, the woman yelled: “Mildred, get over here! Yer not gonna believe this; it’s James ruddy Fraser!”

The tea-cosy woman was soon joined by her friend.

“Fans of the show are you, ladies? Would you like me to sign something or pose for a picture?”

“What show? I dinna expect ye remember us James but we certainly remember you!”

Both women began to giggle.

“So you haven’t seen me reading the news on BBC4?”

“I dinna ken about any of that. We havena seen ye since you were knee-high to a coo an' ye fell into the pig sty at Mildred’s farm. Ye smelled like shite for near on a week!”

The lady leaned forward and pretended to sniff the air around Jamie.

“Och, Mildred I think he mighta finally got the stink off!”

Both women burst into loud cackles while Jamie’s face turned the colour of beets. Turning around he saw Angus weeping - yes those were actual tears streaming down his face - as he struggled to breathe from all the laughing he was doing.

“Maybe ye could pose for a picture in the pig sty Jamie?”

“Maybe you could shut your gob before I shut it for you?”

Both men were now shaking, Angus with mirth and Jamie with fury. Bunch of hicks the lot of them! For the fifteenth time that morning Jamie wondered when this hell of an assignment would finally be over?

***

The official opening of the festival was a re-creation of the _Cailleach_ coming out to declare if there was to be an early spring. The plan was for Angus to capture footage of the ceremony before panning across to Jamie who’d do his report.

“Ok Jamie, we’re on you in three, two…”

Claire mouthed the word ’one’ and gave Jamie the thumbs up to begin.

“Well, here we are in the Scottish Highlands for the ever-thrilling Imbolc festival. The _Cailleach_ has come out to collect some firewood and for the ancient Celts this was a time to celebrate. Not just because of kindling but also as it was the when their animals would produce the first milk of the season. Without modern conveniences like supermarkets the people here could often go for months without anything to put on their cornflakes so the reappearance of dairy was a cause for much rejoicing. They - like we are today, would celebrate with a feast, some grass crosses and fire torches. How such excitement is able to be contained we’ll never know. For BBC4, I’m James Fraser”

“Seriously?”

“What? You asked me to mention the highlights of the fesival; I’d hate for the viewers to miss out on hearing about how the ancient ones didn’t have a Tesco”

Jamie had expected Claire to have a go at him again, but instead she just gave him a look that was a mix of sadness and disappointment. It came very close to making Jamie feel ashamed, but he brushed it aside. If Claire wasn’t happy with his report they could always record some additional voiceover when they were back in London.

***  
While Claire and Angus filmed happy festival-goers, Jamie stood off to the side of the field. After about fifteen minutes he’d had enough, walking over to them and demanding the keys.

“I’m going to wait in the van”

“But we haven't even been to the stalls to try the food”

“Trust me Claire, once you've tried one bannock, you've tried them all”

He walked back to the van, avoiding as many people as he could. He’d participated in this farce long enough, time to get back to real life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first started writing this I didn’t think it would take this long to get though Jamie’s first day in the Highlands. Please try and stick with ‘Jerk!Jamie’ for now, I promise this version of him doesn’t stay around for the whole story!


	5. The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The BBC trio begin the drive back to London.

At last they were packed up and on the road back to London. Despite the promising sunshine in the morning, the sky grew progressively darker as the day wore on.

“See - the _Cailleach_ isna wrong. Sunny this mornin’ and here comes the rest of winter!”

“Not interested Angus. The story’s done and in a few hours I’ll be enjoying a pint of bitters at my local.”

“If you hadn’t been in such a strop we’d still be there getting more shots of the festival, Jamie” Claire scolded him. “You’d do well to remember who the producer is on future assignments.”

“I wasn’t in a strop.”

Claire raised her eyebrows.

“Dinna give me that look - besides, I’m sure BBC archives have some footage from the 1970s you can use. Nothing ever changes up here, I doubt the average viewer would even be able to tell the difference.”

“That’s not the point! I can’t understand why you feel the need to be so cynical Jamie?”

“I think you’ll find viewers love me.”

“We’re not even talking about viewers. It’s about having the professionalism to show interest in the subject of your story. Even if the topic isn’t of personal interest to you.”

“Professionalism? Claire, I’ve been doing this a long time. I know what I’m doing.”

“Ha! You really believe you’ve got it all worked out don’t you? Because let me enlighten you Jamie…”

As Claire once again began putting him in his place, Jamie was entranced. Where had this woman come from? It was as though she’d dropped clean out of the sky and somehow knew just how to push his buttons. He wondered if he’d be able to find ways to ‘bump into’ her when he was back in London and working at BBC World? Watching her impassioned speech Jamie couldn't help but notice the cute little crease Claire got between her brows as she became worked up. He smiled as he took in her expression.

“Are you laughing at me James Fraser?”

“Never!”

“Well what were you starring at then?”

“If you two could quit squabbling like two cats in a sack; we’ve got a wee bit of a problem here” interupped Angus.

Whilst Claire and Jamie bickered, sleet had begun to fall and was rapidly turning into heavy snow. Looking ahead they saw what Angus had been referring to; a semi-trailer had overturned, blocking traffic in both directions.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” exclaimed Jamie. “How are we supposed to get around that?”

“If this weather keeps up it wilna matter, they’ll close the roads”

“We’re in a news van, trust me - they’ll let us through.”

 

They weren’t allowed through. Jamie had even got out of the van to speak with the policeman controlling the scene and attempted to charm the man with what he felt was a ‘megawatt smile’. Unfortunately for a man as ordinarily attractive as Jamie, much of the appeal was lost on account of his chattering teeth and blue lips. Turns out Scottish police officers could also be added to the list of people who failed to swoon in the presence of James Fraser.

“I dinna think you understand. I need to get back to London. Today.”

“Well unless ye grow wings and fly there ye can forget it. By the time we’ve cleared this lot up the roads arena going to be safe, so ye need to get back into ye vehicle and go back the way ye came.”

“Don’t you have some sort of police escort that you could provide for emergencies or celebrities?”

“And which might you be, sir?”

“I’m both! I’m a celebrity in an emergency!”

“Is that right? Wait, are you the bloke from Simply Red?”

Jamie ran his hands though his hair in frustration. What was wrong with everyone here? Did no one own a TV set? He took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

“I’m James Fraser. I read the news on BBC4 and I need to get back to London. Immediately.”

“Listen laddie, needin’ to get to the big smoke so ye can drink a chardonnay with ye posh mates is not an emergency in my book. I dinna care who ye are! The roads are closed, end of story.” 

Climbing back into the van, it was clear Angus has overheard the whole exchange as he tried and failed hold back laughter that was once again at Jamie’s expense.

“Not a word from you Angus. Not one bloody word!”

“You got it, Mick!”

Jamie slammed the door closed so hard it made the whole van shake.

 

As they drove back towards Broch Mordha the snow continued to fall, covering the countryside in an icy blanket of white. Jamie was in a mood as foul as the weather; after all the awkwardness this morning he was now being forced to spend another damn night up here! To make matters worse there was still no phone signal so he couldn't even call John Grey to blast him for allowing a quality reporter like Jamie to endure such appalling conditions. Irritatingly, Claire seemed to be viewing their time in the Highlands as some kind of winter wonderland and talked excitedly about the Imbolc festival dinner that was to be held in the town hall. She started to ask Jamie if he wanted to join them but his glare was enough of an answer.

“Drop me off at the B&B Angus. I’m going to bed, sooner I can get to sleep, sooner it’ll be tomorrow and we can leave.”

 

Remembering the arctic temperatures in his room that morning, Jamie asked Mrs Baird’s son Tammas to ‘bank’ the fine in his room (whatever that meant); if he was going to wake up here again he at least wanted to be warm. Tammas assured him that the hearth would stay nice and toasty through the night and well into the next morning. Well that was something at least.

Before he went to sleep that night Jamie didn't think of his family or his former home. All he thought of was getting back to London and how close he was to finally hitting the big time. The people of Broch Mordha didn’t care about him and he didn't care about them. As of tomorrow he doubted he’d ever be back there again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one as the next chapter is going to be a bit longer. As always, thanks for reading and for your comments!


	6. A Haughty Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having waited out the storm, Jamie is finally able to resume his journey back to London. Well that was the plan...

_And I would walk 500 miles and I would walk 500 more, just to be_ _the man that walked a thousand miles…_

The radio was loud.

And blaring.

And Jesus Christ was that the Proclaimers? Again!? What was it about the band that made them such a national obsession?

Jamie moved to get out of bed; as his feet hit the floorboards he let out a decidedly unmanly-like squeal. The room was like ice! So much for that Tammas tinkering with the fire; the damn thing had gone out again! Cursing, Jamie walked over to the small sink in the corner of the room and splashed water on his face. He then dressed but didn’t bother styling his hair, it’d only be Angus and Claire that saw him today and there was no need to impress them. Ok, well maybe he wanted to impress Claire but so far she’d failed to appreciate his sartorial style; maybe she was one of those women who was into schleppy looking guys? Whatever.  Jamie pulled a black beanie over his head; his hair was long enough that it was still visible but hopefully he wouldn't be too recognisable if they ran into into any fans on the drive back.

Throwing clothes into his bag he became aware of the radio announcers chirping in the background:

“Imbolc festival is today and we'll see if we're getting another 3 months of winter!

“Brrrrrr….this isna Ibiza that’s for sure!”

“Ha ha ha”

What was the radio station doing today? Playing a collection of the world’s most boring highlights? No matter, soon he’d have proper internet back and would be able to stream music to his heart’s content; preferably something released this century at least.

  
Entering the breakfast room, Jamie felt a lightness in his step. Ok, so yesterday had been a train wreck on several fronts, but it was over now; time to focus on the future. It was as if the other guests shared his optimism, the place buzzed with excited chatter and laughter. He supposed the Imbolc dinner must have been a success - well as much as a snow bound barn dance could be.

“Good Mornin’ to ye Mr Fraser - Happy Imbolc Festival!

Imbolc Festival? Was the damn thing still going then? He made a mental note to hold this information back from Claire until they were well clear of the area; lest she insist they stay to capture more ‘rural joy.’

The old lady continued:

“How about some breakfast; growing lad like you’s got to eat!”

“Nothing for me - I’ll be off shortly; hopefully all the roads have reopened.”

“Why would they need to reopen?”

The woman was Scottish, wasn’t she? Surely she’d been around long enough to know the it didn’t take much snow to close the narrow Highland roads? There was something odd about this conversation that Jamie couldn't quite put his finger on.

“Shall I hold your room for you Mr Fraser? Surely you’ll be staying for the festivities tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“Aye, promises to be quite the shindig!”

More festivities? Whatever fresh round of boredom the town was about to unleash, Jamie was determined to have no part in it.

“Ah, yes, well the fun’s got to stop sometime. Alas it’s back to London for me - we got enough footage for the story, yesterday”

Enough for a lifetime Jamie thought.

“Yesterday? But the Imbolc festival is today!”

Jamie was right - there was definitely something off about this conversation. The reason came to him all at once; it was the only rational explanation - the lady was senile! How else could you explain forgetting an event that had only just happened the day before? The poor old bat was clinging to the one day of the year that remotely passed as excitement around here. How sad, particularly as the festival was anything but ‘exciting’. Thinking further, he reasoned that her muddle-headed confusion probably also explained why she treated Jamie as just a regular guest and not the famous, award-winning journalist that he was. Concerned with the woman’s comprehension, Jamie decided to clearly annunciate each of his words:

“I WILL BE LEAVING TODAY”

“Yer leaving before the festival?”

Yep, she had definitely lost it. Miming turning a steering wheel, Jamie tried one last time to get his message across.

“I’M DRIVING TO LONDON. BYE BYE MRS LAIRD”

“Baird”

“Yes, of course”

  
If Jamie thought his conversation with the rambling Mrs Baird was to be the most confusing thing that morning, he was sorely mistaken. Stepping into the street he looked in both directions to try and spot Angus and Claire; where the hell were they? He’d made a point of telling them to be nice and early today to allow for extra time in case all the roads to London hadn’t reopened yet. Although, casting his eyes around he thought perhaps it wouldn't be a problem? The grass wore a thin mask of frost but showed nothing of the heavy snow that had been falling when he’d retired the night before. It was as if it had all just vanished; how odd.

‘Jamie! Jamie Fraser! I thought it was you!”

Before Jamie could turn around the beanie he wore was pulled from his head and Rupert was scuffing up his hair once again. Jamie was cold, tired and in no mood for roughhousing with his cousin.

“Jesus Rupert, why’d you have to go and do that again?”

Jamie snatched back the beanie, pulling it right down over his head in case Rupert tried to touch is hair again.

“Och, sorry! Was just a wee joke. It’s been more’n ten years, I’m happy to see ye is all.”

“Ten years? I saw you yesterday.”

“Did ye?”

Rupert looked deep in thought as he scratched his head. His face suddenly lit up in recognition:

“Did ye come into the garage disguised as an auld woman?!”

“Did I what?”

Jamie was in no mood for humouring another nonsensical Highlander today.

“Aye, of course - the old biddy that came in for new wiper blades - big nose, dark glasses, lots of white curly hair. Seeing as yer on the telly I shoulda known it was you in a costume!”

“Rupert, I read the news for the BBC, I’m not in the habit of dressing up like an actor in some children’s pantomime”

“Nay Jamie - ye canna fool me! And to think I thought ye had yer head stuck up yer arse from being in London so long. T’was a fine joke lad!”

While Rupert stood there laughing, Jamie sighed. None of this was making sense. As if a reporter of his renown would be playing dress-up at a Highland garage; to say nothing of Rupert’s grossly inaccurate character assessment of him. Hard to believe that the conversation with his cousin was even more encrutiating than the day before.

“So, I’m playing shinty today - ye’ve got to come!”

Not this again? Jame involuntarily clenched his jaw as his irritation with Angus and Claire’s late arrival reached new heights. By some miracle, at that exact moment he heard tooting from the BBC news van. Thank God!

“That’s a pass from me Rupert, be seeing you.”

Rupert started saying something else but Jamie wasn’t staying around to listen. He lunged for the van and all but threw himself inside before pulling the door closed with enough force to make Claire jump.

“Madainn mhath!”

“Good morning to you too, Claire”

Jamie felt himself beginning to calm as soon as he looked at her. He wasn’t sure what it was about the lass, but somehow just her presence had the ability to make him forget whatever it was he was annoyed about only moments before. Claire’s dark curls were in a loose bun, but a few had escaped and stood in bold contrast against her pale swan-like neck. As she had yesterday, Claire looked slightly self-conscious after her attempt at Gaelic, but to Jamie this just endeared her more to him. His moment of contemplation was interrupted by Angus yelling from the front seat.

“Oi! What’s with the outfit? Why are ye dressed like a cat burglar?

Claire giggled and Jamie immediately blushed. Realising Angus was referring to his dark jacket and beanie, he hastily removed the hat and shoved it in his pocket. Panicking at how dishevelled he must look he hastily ran his fingers through is hair a few times. Claire cocked her head to the side, appraising him.

“Well that’s a different look for you”

“What do you mean?

“Your hair, you look completely different without so much product in there”

“Well, I um…I usually want to look…That is to say I try to look a wee bit more professional for work, you know?”

Why was he stuttering like a shy teenager giving a speech at school assembly?

“Well I like it without so much, er…volume. I didn’t realise the ends curled like that”

Before he could respond, Claire reached out and brushed a few of the strands away from his eyes causing Jamie to shiver from the contact. Their eyes met and she smiled shyly, withdrawing her hand. Jamie swallowed awkwardly and even as Claire shifted to look out the window he couldn’t stop himself from glancing in her direction. Something about her was so carefree, as if she’d come alive in the clean Scottish air.

With greenery flashing past as the van trundled along, Jamie zoned out and began to daydream. Once back in London he was sure it’d just be a matter of time before Claire fell for his charms, especially when he had his fancy new job. He imagined telling her about all the important stories he was reporting on; she’d be so impressed and in awe of him. He pictured her smiling as she ran her hands through his hair, perhaps telling him how attractive she found him and smart and funny and… Jesus Christ; why the hell where they at Lallybroch again?!

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After suffering from some writer’s block (aka a ‘what is this tripe?’-style freak out) I’m hopefully back on deck! Thanks for sticking with the story; as a first time writer I appreciate all your views, kudos and comments. Cheers!


	7. 2 + 2 = 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you ask anyone in London they’ll tell you how calm and in control James Fraser is. But Jamie is a long way from London today.

They were supposed to be on the road to London. Instead, the BBC4 van was once again headed for the last place Jamie wanted to be; Lallybroch. He felt simultaneously annoyed and anxious in the pit of his stomach; something was very wrong.

“What are you doing Angus? Are ye lost?”

Angus looked confused as he eyed Jamie in the rear-view mirror.

“Lost? In the Highlands? Are ye really askin’ me that?”

“In that case Mr Google Maps, why are we here again? Or have you forgotten that the road back to London is in the opposite direction?”

Angus rolled his eyes and shook his head but said nothing.

“I’m serious, what are ye doin’ man?”

Claire’s soft but direct voice spoke up from his right.

“Jamie - we’ve been over this - we’re filming the story at Lallybroch. It’s where the festival is being held today”

Recollections of his conversation with Mrs Baird began to bubble up; she’d said the festival was today, too. He pushed the memory away and looked out the window, the place he used to call home looming ever closer. Confusion and anger mixed together as Jamie struggled to believe what he was seeing and hearing.

“No, no way - is this a joke? Because if it is, I'm not laughing. Ye both know full well that we did the story yesterday!”

Angus scoffed.

“Ye ken the story isna you moping in this van for eight hours, aye? Cos that’s all we woulda got if we’d filmed ye yesterday!”

Jamie ignored Angus and his sniggering.

“Claire, seriously; what are we doing? Why are we coming back for a second day?”

“We’re not - Imbolc is only on for today, after which we’ll be back to the smoggy streets of London that you love so much.”

“Today? But Imbolc is February 1st.”

“Correct. And that’s today.”

What the hell was going on? Was everyone suffering from some form of collective amnesia? Why pretend that the day before hadn’t happened? Jamie fell into a stunned silence.

 

They pulled up in front of the main house; smoke curling out of its chimneys as a promise of cosy fires within. Angus unloaded the gear while Claire took a few moments to absorb everything that was going on. She looked enraptured. Jamie knew she’d enjoyed seeing Lallybroch yesterday; he remembered her telling Angus how she’d wanted lots of footage of the house. Based on her expression today however, it was as though she was looking at it for the first time.

“Oh my goodness - would you look at the house?! Angus make sure we get lots of shots of it, perhaps panning up from the fields? Or maybe it should be from the house across to the fields? I want to make sure we get it from every angle! Angus?”

“Dinna fash, I heard ye!”

Their conversation was deeply unsettling. If today really was their first time at Imbolc, how had Jamie known what Claire was going to say _before_ she’d said it? He needed to gather his thoughts as it was looking increasingly unlikely that Ashton Kutcher was about to jump out and declare he’d been Punk’d.

 

Jamie walked a few steps away from the others and tried to slow his breathing. Breathe in for four, hold for two, out for six.

4-2-6.

4-2-6.

He repeated the numbers over and over as he focussed on calming down. He'd been following the technique since his late teens when he'd spent more time in a temper than out of one and his youthfulness betrayed emotions for all to see. Looking upwards, the candles in the windows of the house twinkled against the early morning sky. There was a time when he’d have found the sight magical and other-worldly, but today the familiarity felt mocking. Unaccustomed to not being in control, Jamie reasoned there had to be a way to make sense of what was going on. Everyone was so sure _today_ was the Imbolc festival - but if that was the case, why could he remember doing the whole thing yesterday? It had happened, hadn’t it? He wondered if it was déjà vu - but that usually only lasted a couple of minutes, not hours. Jamie ran his hands through his hair and tried to quell the rising feeling of panic; what was going on?

 

He heard their yelling before he saw them - two children running through the courtyard; their laughter echoing across the open space. With their deep red hair, the boys could have been twins except that one was about a foot taller than the other, his longer legs allowing him to easily outpace the younger boy.

“Wait for me!”

“You’re too slow Sawney! Run faster if ye wanna catch me!”

Jamie stood still as a statue, the hairs on his arms prickling. His eyes were riveted on the children; so happy and innocent. The older boy stopped and picking up the smaller one, whirled him around. The were both laughing, glee written all over their faces. Jamie turned his head as he became vaguely aware of someone calling his name. He looked back at the children, but instead of two red-headed boys he saw it was actually a blonde haired girl and a dark haired lad. Of course it couldn't have been what he thought it was; could it?

 

“Earth to Jamie! Hello!”

“Huh?”

“I’ve only been calling ye name for the last five minutes - are ye even awake yet? Cos if this is your attempt to make me fetch ye a coffee ye can forget it!”

“I was just…those children, I coulda sworn I was seein’…?”

“Aye, aye fascinating I’m sure. If ye done lollygaggin’, Claire wants us all to walk the whole site before we set up for our first shots.”

Jamie felt dizzy and noticed his hands were shaking. He stared at them, willing the motion to stop but instead his eyes became unfocused from the effort. Was he having some kind of breakdown? He staggered forwards a few steps but couldn't seem to keep his balance on the uneven cobblestones.

“Jesus H. Christ! You’re as white as a sheet! What’s wrong?”

Claire positioned herself under Jamie’s shoulder to support him as she guided him back towards the van to sit down. His forehead was clammy, breathing irregular and he was mumbling words that made no sense to anyone.

4-2-6, 4-2-6, 4-2-6 - It wasn’t working. Why wasn’t it working? He couldn't get enough air. Why couldn’t he get enough air? Jamie screwed his eyes up with the effort to breathe and fought the urge to throw up.

“Jamie - it’s me, Claire. You’re having a panic attack. Try and focus on my voice and block out everything else.”

Eyes closed and hands balled into fists, Jamie willed his breathing to slow. He concentrated on listening to the tones in Claire’s voice as she told him he was safe and in no danger.

“That’s it - keep your focus on me.”

At length Jamie reopened his eyes to see Claire’s concerned face in front of him. As his eyes refocused and the shaking subsided she gave him a tentative smile. Angus handed him a worn leather hip flask.

“Here, have a wee nip of this lad”

Jamie tipped his head in thanks and took a sip. The familiar burning sensation in his throat from the whisky helped him feel more normal and less out of control.

“You’re getting some of your colour back which seems like a good sign. Do you know what brought this on?”

Not in any way that wouldn't make his sound like a complete loon, he thought. When Jamie didn’t answer, Claire continued.

“My Uncle used to have panic attacks so I recognised the signs. Do you know if you were reacting to someone happening right now, or perhaps something in your past?”

“Ah…you know I’m really not sure. Thank you for looking out for me though.”

The only explanation that seemed to make any sense was that somehow Jamie had mixed up the shock of returning to Lallybroch with memories from years gone by. Yes - that was it. Of course the house would be lit up with candles, it had been dozens of times before. Of course Claire would want shots of the house and to walk the site before they started filming, she was a producer. And the children? Their hair must have looked a different colour in the morning light. Perfectly logical explanation for everything; he’d just mixed up memories and expectations, simple as that.

“We’re certainly glad you’re feeling better. It looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day”

“Aye, she’s right Jamie - although could just be the _Cailleach_ luring us in; bright ‘n’ sunny now and foul weather to come. Fingers crossed it isna dreich ‘n’ snowy on the way back to London!”

In a flash Jamie remembered unsuccessfully trying to cajole a police officer whist standing in a blizzard. No way to manufacture a false memory of that, was there? He knew the answer. Something was wrong, very very wrong.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I plan out each chapter I only ever seem to get through a couple of the scenes before the words increase and I have to break it off into smaller chunks. I hope to be able to post a follow up chapter sooner rather than later! 
> 
> Thanks so much for all the words of encouragement, this story is so much fun to write and it means a lot to know that people are reading it. Cheers :-)


	8. Cranesmuir Station

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to avoid a repeat of ‘yesterday’, Jamie attempts to flee the Highlands by train.

The tea tasted disgusting.Claire had called it ‘willowbark’ and insisted that it would help with his lingering headache but the concoction was rancid and more reminiscent of a high school chemistry experiment gone wrong than anything medicinal.The sentiment was well intended but Jamie only waited until Claire was out of sight before pouring the whole lot into a nearby clump of heather.

 

As he came out of the haze following his panic attack, Jamie considered the facts as he saw them.Firstly, was it was likely the whole of Broch Mordha had gotten together to plan an elaborate practical joke on him and pretend February 1st hadn’t happened?They all seemed to have a terrible sense of humour so it was a possibility, but he highly doubted a town with patchy internet and one pub would have managed to pull off such a ruse.This left him with two remaining scenarios:either yesterday hadn’t happened and was ‘all a dream’ - again unlikely; this was real life and not a TV show grasping for ratings - or that he really was experiencing the same day a second time. This last option made him sound insane; James Fraser was a lot of things, but insane was not one of them.

 

Sighing as he realised he was no closer to a rational explanation than before, Jamie wandered over to the festival. The sounds of a piper drifted across the field and recognising the tune, he sought to move to an area where it couldn't be heard; he’d spent enough time today feeling maudlin.No such luck, the sound carried to every corner of the paddock, making it impossible for Jamie to escape the music or the memories that it evoked. 

 

At length he spotted the others; Angus tinkering with the camera equipment with a dopey expression on his face and Claire clapping her hands together as she pointed out things she wanted him to film.Despite a desire to leave, Jamie couldn't help but be drawn to the way Claire seemed to soak up the atmosphere at Lallybroch.As she looked around, he started to as well; noticing things he’d completely disregarded the day before.The whole place really was a hive of activity.People milled about, joking and laughing while children ran in every direction, getting under the feet of adults and animals alike.There were stalls selling food and drink, everything from barrels of whisky to beef jerky made from Highland cattle.Products for sale made from locally sourced wool and textiles with sheep and goats standing guard next to the stalls as if to attest to the veracity of the wares themselves. There was even a man touting flagons made from horn.The stall Jamie saw Claire make a beeline for had a large hand painted sign reading ‘Gellis’ Garden’.He watched from forty or so feet away as she excitedly picked up vials and jars, chatting animatedly with the seller as they gave her various bowls of herbs to smell and taste. The woman running the stall -sly looking with waist-length red hair - handed Claire a brown paper bag with her purchases as they laughed together.Claire had only been speaking to the woman for a couple of minutes and they already looked thick as thieves.Odd, but as Jamie was beginning to discover, Claire Beauchamp was an unusual lady.

 

He saw Jenny walking the field, inspecting some of the stalls and greeting visitors.Jamie still wasn’t sure what he believed about what was going on today, but whether yesterday was a figment of his imagination or not, he’d just as soon avoid another starmash with his sister if he could. 

 

“Hello! You must be Jenny Murray - I’m Claire Beauchamp, we spoke on the phone the other day?”

 

He watched Claire run over to introduce herself.Glad to not be with them for this conversation, he took off in the opposite direction, smirking to himself for his foresight.

***

The next few hours passed in a bit of a blur.Jamie reported on the Cailleach and her firewood ceremony - or whatever it was she was supposed to be doing- but he couldn't help glancing skywards every few seconds.Seeing his eyes constantly looking upwards, Angus smirked.

 

“Och, no! Didn’t ye hear Jamie?”

 

“Hear what?”

 

“On account of Imbolc, they had to cancel the plane”

 

Jamie sighed.This felt like a ‘bit’ and Angus was no stand-up comedian.

 

“What plane, Angus?”

 

“The one ye commissioned to fly by draggin’ a sign wi’ ye phone number for any bonnie lassies in the area to call”

 

“Claire, remind me again why it is this Billy Connelly wanna-be even has a job, let alone one at the BBC?”

 

“Simple - I’m 5’6” so technically I’m the only one who’ll fit into the BBC van with ye and yer massive ego”

 

“Claire!”

 

“Alright alright, both of you behave please.We need to load the gear and get going while the weather’s still good”

 

The midday sun shone as strongly as could be expected in winter and the skies were bright and clear.Even still Jamie was worried, if they took off on the road to London were they going to run straight into a snowstorm again?The thought of once more being trapped in a van with Angus spurred him into action.

 

“About that - When we go back to London today, I can’t be taking the van”

 

“Sorry Jamie, but we’re a public broadcaster, our funds don’t quite extended to private jets, even for you”

 

“I'm serious Claire, I can’t go in the van”

 

“What do you propose then? We can’t leave it here - we need it to get all our equipment back to the studio”

 

“Dinna fash Claire, I’m happy to drive myself back if you’d like to travel with the ‘talent’” Angus chuckled.

 

Claire eyed Jamie, evaluating whether this sudden aversion for road-travel was anything to do with his earlier issue.

 

“Fine - I’ll go with you Jamie.If only to ensure you make it back in one piece”

 

“Grand.We’ll take the train.”

***

Angus had offered to drive them to Inverness reasoning they’d be able to catch a train to Edinburgh and then change for a direct service to London.Fearing what could happen with the weather, Jamie was having none of it; insisting that they be dropped at the nearest station, which happened to be a run-down stop called Cranesmuir.

 

Being a remote part of Scotland, the station was unmanned, consisting of a platform and a weatherbeaten waiting room.Smooth wooden benches that were only a notch above dilapidated lined the walls and a faded sign tacked to a noticeboard promised a service to Inverness every 2 hours.Glancing at his watch, Jamie breathed a sigh of relief as he pictured himself and Claire in a nice warm carriage speeding southward.Not realising he’d been muttering to himself, Claire asked him to repeat that he’d said.

 

“Oh - just that trains don’t stop for snow.”

 

“Are you sure about that? Anyway - the weather’s still clear, I think we’d have been fine either way”

 

“No - you heard what the _Cailleach_ said with the sticks and whatnot; we canna chance it, not again”

 

“You've been very weird today - more so than usual I mean”

 

Claire had a wry smile on her face as she continued:

 

“You just don’t strike me as the kind of man that would buy into premonitions about the weather.I know you said you were ok after this morning, but are you sure? I know you don’t want Angus to laugh at you, but you can tell me if something’s not right”

 

“For the thousandth time; I’m fine.I just know we can’t drive back to London and need to take a train.”

 

“Alright, alright” Claire held her hands up in mock defeat “No roads for James Fraser!”

 

Shaking her head, she pulled a book from her bag - _‘The Poetry of Robert Burns’_ \- and began reading.

 

Not that he’d dare tell Claire, but Jamie was quite pleased with the way the day had panned out.A long cosy train journey would mean some extended one-on one time with her which, he hoped, would finally allow Claire to see the ‘real Jamie’.He knew already that he was falling for her, he had been since the moment he first laid eyes on her. With the chance to get to know him, he was confident that Claire would be feeling the same way in no time.

 

***

Jamie paced around, his fingers drumming a pattern on his thigh.The train was supposed to have arrived twenty minutes ago yet there was still no sign of it.He pushed open the door of the waiting room to check the tracks and was immediately hit in the face with an icy blast of wind.Caught off guard he jumped backward and shook his head like a dog after a bath.Claire giggled.

 

“So are you going to tell me what this is all about? Or is it another thing to add to the Unexplained Fraser Files?”

 

“I’ve explained it to ye already - we can’t travel by the roads which leaves rail as our only option”

 

“I was referring more to your incessant checking for the train like you’re a teenage girl worried their prom date isn't going to arrive. I know you’re not on the best terms with your family, but what is it about today that has you so anxious for it to be over?”

 

Jamie shrugged his shoulders and pretended to be interested in the notice board advertising leaves of hay and secondhand tractor parts.

 

“Ha ha, like that is it? Well from the looks of it we’ll be here for a while so I’ve time to puzzle you out, Jamie.”

 

Claire’s comment unsettled him, but he didn't yet understand himself well enough to know why.In an effort to divert her attention from a character assessment, Jamie decided to tell Claire some of his favourite work stories. 

 

His usual approach was to tell a woman all about himself, smile a lot and then when they were really into him, he’d let them touch his hair.A simple plan, but proven effective on many occasions.Of course there was the immediate issue that he hadn’t styled his hair today, but given they were in the middle of nowhere, he hoped Claire would be able to overlook it.

 

Jamie decided to tell a very amusing tale that involved him getting ambushed by a group of models at London Fashion Week.Well he thought it was amusing, Claire seemed to have other ideas and he’d even seen her roll her eyes a couple of times.Why wasn’t she laughing? Did she not find it funny that he was there to interview the models yet he had been the object of everyone’s attention?He’d always assumed women loved that story as it made them feel special to be in conversation with someone as desired as Jamie.Did she not understand what he was trying to say?

 

“I’m going to assume that it’s becasue I’m your producer and therefore you have no romatic interest in me that you shared that particular anecdote?”

 

Jamie felt himself immediately redden.

 

“H-How do you mean?”

 

Claire looked at him with a confused expression.

 

“Oh gosh, you're serious aren’t you? Darling, that story was terrible - what self-respecting woman would want to hear how a bunch of models tried to chat you up?!”

 

“But wouldn't a lass like to hear that someone they’re after is also wanted by others?”

 

“Of course she wouldn't! I’m not exactly a troll Jamie, but I’m hardly going to be gracing the pages of Vogue anytime soon, either.The only - and I do mean only - thing one can conclude from that story is that your perception of yourself is a little out of alignment with the reality.”

 

She began to laugh, a sound that he usually loved but it was dampened by knowing it was at his expense.

 

“I did a story in Australia a few years ago and they introduced me to the great phrase ‘you’ve got tickets on yourself’ and you Jamie Fraser, have enough for a whole theatre”

 

“I see”

 

“But like I said, I’m assuming you're telling me this story to highlight that you’re not interested in me, which is fine as I assure you the feeling is entirely mutual.I’m sure we could be good friends though”

 

So many things for Jamie to process.Firstly that his sure-fire winner of a story was the subject of ridicule from Claire, second that she has assumed he’d told it as he had no interest in her and thirdly, that she’d declared that she’d never have any interest in him.What the hell was happening? Was he somehow less attractive in Scotland? Surely that couldn't be right.

 

He must have looked distressed as Claire laid a hand on his shoulder, her tone still amused but now softened:

 

“Don’t look so glum, Fraser. I’m sure there are heaps of _laydeez_  waiting with baited breath for your return to London”

 

Jamie felt utterly deflated.How had the Highlands managed to wreck his chances with Claire?He hadn’t had long to ponder his own feelings for her, but already he know that this was different.He simply could not and would not accept that she couldn't feel even remotely the same way.

 

While they were chatting the sky had darkened; the long wintery night closing in. Before long it was snowing heavily, making it impossible to see more than a few feet from the platform.There was still no sign of the train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo...turns out writing is really hard; who knew ;-). This has taken a lot longer to put together than I’d planned, thanks for sticking with it! Really appreciate any thoughts anyone has, too!


	9. A Visit From Jack Frost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The train still hasn’t arrived and Claire still isn’t interested - two facts which are no surprise to anyone except Jamie.

The waiting room was illuminated by a single bulb suspended from the ceiling, the dim wattage giving an almost candlelight-like effect.When puffs of wind snuck through cracks in the plaster it would sway, causing the shadows on the walls to dance about as though listening to an unheard tune. The simple poetry of this was of course lost on Jamie who was starring intently at his watch, willing the minutes to move faster.Claire at least had something to read, all of Jamie’s books were on his smartphone which was dead and lay uselessly in his bag.

 

With the snow coming down hard, the temperature had dramatically dropped.Jamie did at least have the good grace to feel guilty about their situation; he was so sure that they’d be on a warm cosy train halfway to London by now that he hadn’t considered any other outcomes.Now here they were, slowly freezing to death at a remote Scottish railway station.The disappointment that he’d have to spend _another_ night in the Highlands was only exacerbated by his unsuccessful attempts to flirt with Claire.

 

“Right, that’s it!”

 

Claire snapped her book shut and looked at him expectantly.

 

“What’s it?”

 

“You and your sighing are going to be the death of me!”

 

“I wasna sighing”

 

“Oh sorry my bad, it must have been the ghost of Bonnie Prince Charlie then.I expect he’s been the one drumming his fingers incessantly on the benches, too, hmm?”

 

How was she so quick to poke fun at him and he rendered so tongue-tied as a result? This wasn’t supposed to be how it went.

 

“Go on then, ask me a question - anything you like. It’ll help pass the time until a St Bernard with brandy strapped to its collar comes to rescue us”

 

How could she be joking at a time like this? Here he was feeling sorry for himself and she was firing off quips like they were sat by a fire in a nice warm pub.

 

“Um, ok - what got you into producing? You're definitely good looking enough to be on camera.”

 

Claire scoffed.

 

“Is that what it takes to be on camera?”

“No, I mean...that's not what I meant!”

“Good thing. I'd hate for anyone to think _your_ only talent was good hair and a smile.”

She had him there. Again. Damn.This entire evening was a complete write-off; Jamie was officially giving up trying to be charming, it was evidently too cold.

 

“So did you actually want to know, or was that just the first question you could think of?”

 

“No, seriously, I’d really like to know”

 

“It’s quite simple - I love storytelling.In all forms;painting, written word, the human voice.And that’s what I love about producing, I can capture the essence of so many mediums and share stories with people all over the world.The hands of a craftsman who shaves wood for a boat, his body working without conscious thought.There’s the obvious story about a man making boats, but what of the human element; how something like that has been in his blood for generations? How he was drawn to it before he was even born? People in big cities are losing touch with these experiences, thinking them inconsequential - which is why I think helping them to stay in the world’s consciousness is an important undertaking.”

 

Jamie was mesmerised.He was expecting her answer to be a simple ‘because I love to travel’ but what she’d explained was so much richer and absorbing.He also thought embarrassingly of how he’d justified his promotion to field reporter by telling John Grey he was ‘an important man who deserved to tell important stories.’

 

“So what about you?”

 

“Well, seemed like a natural step after I finished journalism at uni to go into broadcasting”

 

“That’s it?”

 

“Yeah, I guess so”

 

“You don’t speak much about yourself.”

 

She giggled; “No, correction, you do speak about yourself but not really anything that matters…Interesting.”

 

Jamie felt like he was being analysed again and it made him uncomfortable.He was saved by an opportune gust of wind that threw the door open, bringing with it icy air and snow.He rushed over and used the force of his body to push it closed; but the latch had been broken and no longer held.Casting his eyes around he spied an old barrel; Claire followed his gaze and ran over to try and move it towards the door.The barrel wobbled a bit but made no further movement. _Nothing else for it then._ Jamie let go of the door and it flung open again; snow that seemed to be falling sideways pouring in.Together he and Claire pushed the barrel over and rolled it towards the door.Snow was flying everywhere, stinging flakes getting in their eyes and making it difficult to see.The roar of the wind was deafening and Jamie had to shout:

 

“Can ye get the door halfway closed? I should be able to tip the barrel the rest of the way”

 

Claire nodded and moved quickly to the door, using her back to try and wedge it shut. Jamie followed with the barrel and after a few minutes of shunting, sweating and swearing the entrance was finally sealed.Both were breathing heavily as a result of the exertion.

 

“Whew! Thought we were going to have to make an igloo for a minute there!”

 

Jamie laughed and looked over at Claire, noticing at once that her whole body was shaking from the cold.

 

“Christ Claire - you’re freezing!”

 

Without thinking Jamie rubbed his hands up and down her arms over her jacket.Seeing their redness he grabbed her hands:

 

“Ye hands are like ice!”

 

Holding them in his own, Jamie blew his warm breath upon them to try and ward off frostbite.Their eyes met over their joined hands. _God she’s lovely, even half-frozen._

 

“Alright?”

 

“Yes, thank you Jamie”

 

Claire smiled greatfully as he held her gaze, which did nothing to dispel the tension that had sprung up in the room.First from the adrenaline due to their icy fright and now from standing only inches apart as Jamie held Claire’s hands close to his chest.

 

Claire cleared her throat.

 

“Ah! I’ve got just the thing!”

 

She stepped away and began rummaging around in her bag.

 

“I hadn’t thought I’d be needing this so soon, but thank God I decided to buy it!” Claire declared as she pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper.

 

“Now before I get this out I just want to say that ‘yes’ I know you’re only supposed to buy tartan for your own “clan” but there was hardly going to be a Beauchamp one, so I bought this instead.”

Claire looked a little sheepish as she unwrapped the paper to reveal a large plaid which she proceeded to throw around her shoulders.Stormy blue, interwoven with chocolate brown, overlaid with thin stripes of red and yellow.Jamie would know the pattern anywhere. _What were the odds?_ At a loss for words, he remained silent, which Claire interpreted as disapproval.

 

“Well I mean, I know I’ve no idea of the origins, but I thought the colours maybe went ok with my hair?”

 

There was no mistaking it; Fraser tartan.And it looked magnificent on her. 

 

“Are you going to give me a lecture on cultural misappropriation?”

 

“No. Ye look bonnie in it”

 

Claire blushed a little but recovered quickly.

 

“I wonder which family this one belongs to?Oh you know what, I just had a crazy thought; what if it belongs to the guy I’m going to marry and he sees me in it and just knows I’m the one?”

 

Jamie swallowed, he could hear his own heart beating.For a brief moment he allowed himself to picture Claire wearing the plaid, and nothing else, as they lay in bed together while warm sunshine flitted through the windows onto their bed.

 

“Actually scratch that.The family that this one belongs to probably have a tradition of marrying their cousins and hate the English.”

 

Despite the plaid around her shoulders, Claire was still shivering and Jamie knew why. He was torn, he could see Claire’s obvious discomfort and longed to wrap his arms around her.He also knew that given their present predicament was entirely at his doing, she’d probably not appreciate being in such close quarters.

 

“What is it now? Out with it”

 

How did she always seem to know when he was debating what to say to her?

 

“Weeel, it’s just that the way you’re wearing the plaid isn’t the best way if you want to keep warm”

 

“Finally being stranded with a Scot is paying off! C’mon show me then.”

 

“Well I can, it’s just that the one you’ve bought, it works better with two people ye see”

 

“Is that right?”

 

Jamie couldn't help blushing, even to him this looked like an incredibly lame attempt to get close to a woman.He heard Claire sniggering.

 

“Jamie - we’re in a sub-zero railway station, not stripping off to jump into a jacuzzi.If you know a way to make this room any less fridge-like, get cracking!”

 

Jamie smiled.

 

“Well if you insist”

 

Despite not having donned a plaid in years his hands wove the material around them without thinking.Looping and tucking he deftly positioned the fabric so that they were effectively swaddled together with Claire’s head on his chest and one of his arms looped around her shoulders.Her brown curls tickled his nose, but he didn’t mind a bit.When he was finished Claire sighed appreciatively and Jamie felt a shiver go down his spine that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. 

 

“Claire?”

 

He whispered so as not to wake her if she was already asleep.The muffled ‘Hmm?’ told him she almost was.

 

“I’m really sorry ye had to spend the night here. I…I shoulda thought it through better”

 

“It’s ok. I don’t think any less of you than I did before.”

 

Jamie smiled to himself as he felt her shoulders shake as she chuckled at her own joke.Eyelids growing heavy and with Claire’s even breathing on his chest, Jamie began to slip towards sleep. He vowed that tomorrow he’d make it up to her, just as soon as they were on the road back to London.


	10. A Burnt Out Lightbulb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a lot of yelling - both at and by Jamie - as realisation finally dawns.

The same way flicking a light switch sends a darkened room into brightness, Jamie snapped from unconscious to wide awake.Even though his eyes remained closed he was immediately aware of how freezing he was - but what else was new? Oddly, but thankfully, the ache he’d expected in his neck from holding Claire’s sleeping form in his arms all night was absent.

_Was that music being played at the railway station? Why the hell would they do that?_

Opening his eyes, he fully expected to see a pair of rosebud lips and a mass of dark curls; instead it was paisley wallpaper and a cold hearth.Unmistakably Mrs Baird’s B&B. Alone in the room, there was no sign of Claire; where was she? If he’d made it back here, what had happened to her? Was she all right?Was she safe? Bolting out of bed he thundered downstairs to the breakfast room, frantically searching for Claire.

 

“Good mornin’ to ye - Oh my word! Is somethin’ the matter Mr Fraser?”

 

Slightly out of breath, Jamie tried his best to apprise Mrs Baird of the situation.

 

“Aye, I mean, no, I mean…did ye see a woman come in with me last night? Brown curly hair, golden eyes, gorgeous?” 

 

The last descriptor slipped out without him even realising.

 

“Nay; should I have?”

 

Jamie’s brow furrowed, deep in thought.

 

“Well she was definitely there when I fell asleep, but I canna remember anything after that”

 

“Are ye sayin’ the lass came in with ye and snuck out in the middle of the night?”

 

“What? Snuck out?”

 

Her question made no sense at all; why wasn’t the old woman listening? Could she not tell that this was not the time for more lame Highland humour? Claire could be anywhere!A thought struck him; maybe Mrs Baird had seen Claire with Angus?Jamie took a deep breath and tried again.

 

“Look, all I meant was that I can’t really remember getting in and thought perhaps you’d seen her - Claire, her name is Claire - around the B&B? Either with me or another man, maybe?”

 

Jamie’s question set Mrs Baird off like a whistling kettle.

 

“Now listen here laddiebuck, I dinna ken what ye think this place is but I can assure ye it isna some bawdy house with trollops breezin’ in and out as they please!”

 

Befuddlement now gone Jamie finally caught the landlady’s meaning; how had this gone so wrong so quickly? He opened his mouth to respond but Mrs Baird - face reddening in a mix of both anger and embarrassment - was not finished.

 

“As for you - might I remind ye this is a family establishment!”

 

Jamie looked down and realised that in his haste to begin searching for Claire he’d forgotten to put on a shirt. 

 

“Oh no it’s not what ye think! I wasna topless when I fell asleep…”

 

The old woman put her hands over her ears.

 

“Dinna burn my ears with ye sordid tales!”

 

The accompanying look she gave Jamie told him that now was not the time to try and untangle this mess.Reluctantly he turned back up the stairs; he had to find Claire! Well ok, he’d put on a shirt first, then find her.

 

                                                                               ***

 

Dressed and walking downstairs a few minutes later, Jamie heard the sound of raised voices coming from the front door.

 

“D’ye think ma heid buttons up the back?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“I said - do I look like I came down in the last shower?!”

 

“I’m not going to even dignify this with an answer! Where is James Fraser? I know he’s staying here, I booked the room myself!”

 

“So ye are using my B&B to run ye wee business! I knew it! Well I can tell ye now, ye willna be crossing this threshold again!”

 

It was at this point Jamie entered the room to see Claire standing at the door, her entry blocked by the portly form of Mrs Baird.

 

“Jamie - there you are! Where the hell have you been? When you weren’t out the front I tried to come in to find you, but this _kind_ lady told me I’ve been ‘banned’”

 

Claire used her hands to make an exaggerated air quote as she shot an annoyed look at Mrs Baird.

 

“Claire! Did ye get back to the motel all right?”

 

“Did I what? What are you talking about? You know I did; you were there when Angus dropped me off”

 

“Angus? He found us at the the railway station? We were still waiting when I fell asleep”

 

“I’m not going to even pretend to understand what you’re talking about Jamie; you’re making even less sense than the _Madam_ here”

 

Claire’s tone was dripping with sarcasm as she gave Mrs Baird another pointed look.

 

At this point Angus joined the fray. 

 

“If everyone can please move - if I have’te listen to you lot talkin’ gobbledegook I’d just as soon fetch myself somethin’ to eat.Whatever they’ve got cookin’ here smells verra tasty”

 

Angus barrelling through brought the whole party into the breakfast room, everyone but Jamie speaking a mile a minute.

 

“Mr Fraser why are ye bringin’ hoors into my B&B?”

 

“Are you going to explain to me why your landlady thinks I’m a prostitute?”

 

“Where’s the black pudding?”

 

Jamie tried to take control of the situation.

 

“You’re all over-reacting and this yelling is getting us nowhere, how about everybody just calms down?”

 

Jamie’s entreaty had the same effect it always does when someone fired up is told to ‘calm down’; all three voices became louder and now only snippits were discernible amidst the din.

 

“…clearly a BBC Producer…”

 

“…Kittle-hoosie!”

 

“…Streaky bacon?”

 

“…am I wearing fishnets?!”

 

“Chargin’ into ma breakfast room bare as a bairn!”

 

“My kingdom for a fork!”

 

“For Christ’s sake ! Quiet, the lot of ye!”

 

At his thunderous outburst, the room finally became silent and three pairs of eyes narrowed at Jamie.

 

“Now, before anyone says another thing - Mrs Baird, this is Claire Beauchamp, BBC producer and most definitely _not_ a lady of the night”

 

“Then who was in yer room with ye Mr Fraser?”

 

“No one - I told you I woke up alone”

 

“Just you and yer hand eh, Jamie?”

 

“Oh get out Angus, you’ve stuffed ye face enough. Go wait in the van!” Jamie snapped.

 

With no regard for food hygiene, Angus grabbed a handful of bacon and quit the room, muttering profanities under his breath all the while.After hearing the front door slam, Jamie continued:

 

“So as I was saying Mrs Baird, Claire is a colleague, no one spent the night in my room - aside from me - and no one is turning your B&B into a den of inequity”

 

With a loud humph Mrs Baird shot Claire a parting look and bustled off into the kitchen.Finally Jamie could focus his attention on the most important matter.

 

“I’m so glad you’re all right - there wasn’t any problems getting back to your motel? You were'na too cold?”

 

His previously angry voice was now laced with concern as he ran his hands over her shoulders and arms to check for signs of injury. Claire gave him a confused look and stepped back; Jamie winced a little to see her shy away from him.

 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you Fraser, but it stops now.First your landlady thinks I’m an escort, no doubt as a result of some _hilarious_ comment you’ve made, and now you’re acting like I’m some damsel in distress who has fallen asleep in the snow.”

 

“I wasn’t…”

 

Claire shook her head and held up her hand to stop him from continuing.

 

“Honestly, whatever it is, it’s none of my business.But I would remind you that we’re here to work.And before you tell me again - yes, I know you don’t want to be here - but can you just get it together long enough for us to film the story?”

 

The story.With those two words, any further questions about the previous night died in Jamie’s throat.The panic over not knowing what had happened to Claire was replaced with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and with a heavy heart he asked the unavoidable question:

 

“What’s the date today?”

 

“It’s February 1st; Imbolc festival”

 

                                                                                  ***

 

Jamie’s eyes were closed and his cheek rested against the cold glass of the van window as it trundled along the familiar road to Lallybroch.There was no use denying the obvious.No rational explanation for what was happening.For whatever bizarre, ridiculous, looks-like-pigs-are-now-flying reason, February 1st was somehow repeating itself and he seemed to be the only one who was aware of it.Of all the places and days to be stuck in!He smashed his fist into the door of the van, frustration boiling over.Eyes slitting open he saw Claire raising her eyebrows at him in question.

 

“Oops, slipped…” Jamie muttered unconvincingly.

 

If he was honest with himself, he’d known yesterday - but Jamie was a long way off that level of self-awareness.A blind desperation to be anywhere but the Highlands and his growing attraction to Claire had him convinced a train south would put an the end to this hellish trip back to Scotland.Now he was right back here he’d started, for the third time.

 

They pulled into the courtyard of the main house and Claire once again began chattering excitedly about the different shots she wanted to capture. The groups of men Jamie had seen before walked around lighting torches; the orange and red flames in stark contrast to the early morning sky.Children ran in every direction, their laughter echoing off the cobblestones.There was a definite sense of anticipation and merriment in the air, well there was for everybody bar one.Jamie kept blinking and rubbing his eyes as though it would somehow wake him from this nightmare.The action didn’t go unnoticed by Angus who made a crack about Jamie must have been ‘on the sauce’ the night before.

 

“How about you keep your gob outta my business ye nosy shite?!”

 

The cameraman took a step backwards, surprised at Jamie’s angry reaction to the joke.

 

“Lighten up will ye? There isna cloud in the sky, will be a grand day - even for a miserable sod like you - ye’ll see!”

 

Jamie didn't even bother answering, distractedly following behind the others as they made their way to the festival field.One minute irritable, the next dejected; he was all over the place today.As they passed the stalls Claire was practically hopping from one foot to the other in eagerness; her producer’s eye mentally picking out the colourful and charming subjects that would bring their story to life.After a lap of the site, Claire chose a spot and she and Angus began to set up the camera equipment.Jamie just stood there with his arms folded. 

 

As the minutes dragged on Jamie’s thoughts kept swirling in circles, causing a feeling of motion sickness.Leaving Angus to test the microphones, Claire came to stand with him.

 

“Are you feeling alright? You look very pale”

 

“I’m fine, its just…something odd’s happening is all.”

 

Tight lipped and apparently not willing to continue, Claire pressed him further:

 

“Is that all I’m getting by way of explanation?”

 

“Well I’m not really sure _how_ to explain it.”

 

Claire’s expression told him this was not adequate.Jamie sighed, then continued.

 

“Have you ever felt… trapped?In a place or, or a time?”

 

“I don’t see how this is connected to you looking so pale.Have you eaten something funny?”

 

Thinking of the unhealthy fare Mrs Baird dished up, Jamie shook his head.

 

“Hmmm; well you’re clearly unwell.Are you having difficulty swallowing? Are your glands swollen?”

 

“Are my— ? Claire, you’re not listening”

 

“Jamie if this is just a ploy to leave Lallybroch, then yes you’re absolutely right, I’m not listening”

 

“I’m telling you something is going on here.I don’t know what, but it’s something”

 

“Let me see then”

 

“See what?”

 

Instead of answering, Claire stepped in close and put her fingertips on Jamie’s neck, gently pressing to try and diagnose him.It felt divine.Her hands were soft, her touch light and he could feel his heartbeat quicken as a result.Claire thankfully didn’t seem to notice, which was good as while she was checking his neck her face was mere inches from his own and the scent of her - a heady mix of citrus and sugar - was intoxicating. It reminded Jamie of lemon-scented sweet tea.Unable to resist, he inhaled deeply and leaned a little closer so that her curls brushed his cheek.

 

Despite only meeting her days earlier, Jamie already knew that having Claire in close proximity had the ability to relax him.With her comforting touch his jaw unclenched as the tension that had built up over the morning began to dissipate.Alas this was short-lived;marching across the festival field towards them was the antithesis of Jamie’s calmness; Jenny. 

 

Needing to get away before his sister accosted him again, Jamie all but yanked Claire’s hands from his neck, announcing that he’d take a walk to get into the ‘Presenter’s Zone’.There was no way in hell that he’d be having another showdown today.

 

Claire called after him but Jamie didn’t turn around.Where could he go to escape this madness? His train of throught was interrupted by the sound of bagpipes.It was the same tune he’d heard yesterday (today?) Why did they have to pick this song? He swore he’d never listen to it again, not after…Suddenly Jamie felt like he’d been punched in the stomach as he collided with something hard.He tumbled backwards onto the ground, legs entangled with whomever he’d run into.Dazed, he looked up to see what idiot had stepped out of nowhere into his path.

 

“Weeell, if it isna the King of Men”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa - this chapter took aaaages to finally finish! Writing is *really* hard (despite it being ‘fun’) and I’ve found it very easy to convince myself to chuck it all in. But there are so many people in this fandom putting themselves out there and giving this a go so I think the least I can do is try...
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read and commented on this story - its means so much; I truely appreciate you all.


	11. Muddying The Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frasers are known for their stubbornness and when it comes to Jenny and Jamie; neither are willing to give an inch.

“Weeeell, if it isna the King of Men!”

 

Jamie closed his eyes and groaned. _Here we go again_.

 

In trying to steer clear of his sister, he’d run literally straight into her and now the two of them were flat on their arses in the middle of the field. The irony was completely lost on Jamie who - furious at not being able to avoid Jenny - decided to focus the entirety of his anger at her.

 

“If I’m such a king, perhaps ye should’ve seen me coming rather than tripping me up?!”

 

“Me? More like your head’s so big ye couldna see where ye were goin’!”

 

Jamie moved to get up but the damp grass was slippery and he succeeded only in falling down again, this time into an unfortunately located puddle of mud. Filthy water splashed all over him, quickly seeping into his clothes and hair.Still on the ground herself, Jenny laughed.

 

“That’s a shame - and all over your fancy-pants newsreader outfit too!”

 

Jamie’s jaw and fist simultaneously clenched.He was the face of BBC 4 News- it simply would not do for him to be seen rolling around in the mud like an overheated sow. How dare Jenny laugh at him!

 

“Listen to me ye besom - I’ve a reputation to maintain, I canna be waist deep in muck!You will help me up this instant!”

 

Now standing, Jenny looked down at him with disdain.

 

“As ye’ve made abundantly clear over the last eleven years _brother dearest_ , ye prefer it on your own. Get one of your minions to help ye, ye’ve burned ye bridges wi’ me”

 

She all but spat the final words, eyes flashing with anger.Blinded by his own rage, Jamie lunged forward, grabbing his sister’s leg to try to hoist himself out of the sludge.Being over a foot taller meant the physics of the manoeuvre simply didn’t work.Jenny toppled and the siblings crashed into the cold puddle; becoming instantly caked in mud.

 

“Ye wee eejit - now look what ye’ve done!”

 

Jenny shoved him hard in the shoulder and Jamie - who had made his way to a sitting position - was once again flat on his back. Dirty water splashing into his mouth, he spluttered and gagged attempting to spit it out.

 

“Are ye fucking kidding me?”

 

Jamie made a grab for his sister but she rolled out of reach.

 

“How dare ye embarrass me like this, Janet!”

 

“Oh get over yourself - I ken ye think the world revolves around ye, but no one gives two figs. Why are ye even here?”

 

“Well it certainly isna for your company”

 

“No surprises there - so how ‘bout ye sod back off to whichever rock it was ye crawled out from under?”

 

“Ye will not speak to me that way Jenny Fraser”

 

“It’s Jenny Murray ye clot-heid!”

 

With her words, Jenny slapped Jamie across the face with a palm full of mud, temporarily blinding him. Any sense of propriety was abandoned as Jamie turned from seasoned newsreader to inflamed younger brother.

 

“Right, that’s it!”

 

Yanking back her head as he pulled on her ponytail, his sister’s hair became coated in filth.Jenny retaliated by pinching his ear and Jamie howled like a banshee in pain.On their knees, the two scrabbled about, both trying and failing to find a foothold. Teeth bared like wild animals and breathing heavily, they were an even match, despite the difference in size.Punches, slaps and kicks saw the puddle churn and dirt fly in all directions.Oblivious to the crowd gathering around them, frustrations that had built up over years exploded in a display that was more befitting toddlers than fully grown adults.At length a man stepped forward and yelled at them; the way one would a misbehaving dog:

 

_“Tha sin gu leòr!”_

 

Recognising the voice, both siblings froze as they turned toward the man now standing over them.

 

“It’s good to see ye Jamie, ye always knew how to make an entrance!”

 

“Ian?”

 

“Aye, although I expect I’ve a few grey hairs compared to when ye saw me last”

 

Jamie scrambled to his feet and hugged his childhood best friend-turned-brother-in-law, giving no regard to the dirt that transferred in the process.Ian laughed good-humouredly;

 

“I hadna realised we had mud wrestling on the programme for today?”

 

“Aye, well…”

 

“Hello - chopped liver over here! If ye not too busy with ye bromance, would ye mind giving me a hand getting out of this sty, _husband_?”

 

Ian coughed awkwardly, breaking the hug and holding out a hand to help his wife back to her feet.

 

The show over, the crowd began to disperse.Turning to the filthy Frasers, Ian smiled:

 

“Ye both look a bit fashed; how ‘bout we go inside the house and get cleaned up, aye?”

 

                                                                         ***

 

After a quick shower, Jamie sat by the fire in the main sitting room with a set of dry clothes and dram of whisky, both courtesy of Ian.Jenny sat in the chair opposite; determined to look in any direction but at her brother.Attempting to lessen the tension in the room, Ian searched for a neutral topic of conversation.

 

“It’s certainly good t’see ye back Jamie - ye picked a bonnie time for it.Jen’s been marshalling the troops for weeks gettin’ ready”

 

Still fuming at his sister, Jamie attempted civility for the sake of his friend.

 

“Aye, the place looks grand. Truely”

 

“Thank ye, we havena had so many folks at Lallybroch since…well since we got marrit - aye Janet?”

 

Jenny huffed but made no further response.

 

“T’was a shame you couldna make it back for the weddin’”

 

Before Jamie had the chance to respond, Jenny dived in - apparently now eager to join the conversation and pick up where their argument in the mud had left off.

 

“Aye, a damn shame - I guess ye RSVP card got lost in the post?!”

 

“Spare me, ye wouldn't have wanted me at your wedding anyway”

 

“Why did we send ye an invite then? Too big and important to come see ye only sister get marrit!”

 

“I had to work.What do ye want me to say Janet?”

 

“Something even resembling an apology would be a start!”

 

“If anyone needs to apologise here, it sure as hell isna me!”

 

Both siblings were now standing, the difference in heights not mattering a jot as they started each other down.

 

“Ye’re a selfish bastard who canna see anythin’ beyond his own nose!”

 

“And you’re nothing but a foul-mouthed bitch!”

 

Jamie yelled the last words right into Jenny’s face at the exact moment Claire entered the room.

 

“Fraser! There you…”

 

Trailing off in shock at Jamie’s outburst Claire stood speechless, the room now silent but for the crackle and spit of the fire.When it because clear no one was going to say anything, Ian stepped forward and held out a hand to Claire.

 

“Hello, I’m Ian Murray; welcome to Lallybroch.Are ye one of Jamie’s friends?”

 

“A work colleague actually; otherwise known as Claire Beauchamp.Very pleased to meet you Mr Murray”

 

“Aye, Ian will do fine.We dinna stand on ceremony here”

 

“Well at least some of us don’t” Jenny added as she looked pointedly at her brother.

 

“Hiya Claire, I’m Jenny; we spoke on the phone”

 

“Hello Jenny! So pleased to meet you - you have a wonderful home!”

 

As she chatted with Jenny, Jamie noticed a slight flush to Claire’s cheeks - was she embarrassed by him?He couldn't imagine why, it was only his sister after all. Jenny giggled at something Claire said and both woman glanced in Jamie’s direction. He didn’t need to be detective to work out he was the reason for their mirth.What was wrong with Claire?Did she not see how Jenny was insulting him only moments before?

 

“Jenny, might I trouble you for a tour of the house after we’ve filmed the _Cailleach_ ceremony?”

 

“Be happy to Claire, we’ve a wee kitchen garden out the back that ye might be interested in too.In fact, why don’t I pop the kettle on and we can have a keek right now?”

 

Claire nodded in agreement and Jenny smiled before bustling out of the room without so much as a backward glance at her brother.Ian still stood by the fireplace, surprised to see his wife shift from full-blown rage to good-natured host after only as couple of minutes chatting to this strange Englishwoman.

 

“If you’ll please excuse us Ian, I just need to borrow our _star reporter_ for a moment.Jamie; a word?”

 

They stepped into the corridor.

 

“Claire, before ye go off with Jenny, I should warn ye that she has a fierce temper and isn’t prone to rational thought”

 

The calm demeanour Claire had shown in the living room vanished and her golden eyes narrowed in anger.

 

“You’re trying to tell me it’s your sister with the fierce temper? Seriously?!”

 

This wasn’t going well.Jamie could see Claire was displeased and it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps she’d heard about what happened earlier.

 

“Is this about the mud?”

 

“Is it about the mud? You’re damn fucking right it is Fraser!We were _supposed_ to be setting up for our first shot, instead you decide it’s the perfect time to start a brawl in the middle of the festival with your sister.What were you thinking?

 

“She started it!”

 

“Oh give me a break! Do you have any idea what it’s like to overhear people chanting ‘fight, fight, fight!’ only to realise it’s your own reporter in the middle of the fray, exchanging blows like some street-thug?

 

“Look Claire, I know you’re angry…”

 

“It’s not that”

 

“You're not angry?

 

“No, of course I am, I’m furious with you!But well, truthfully… I’m disappointed Jamie.All this fighting with Jenny.Your contempt for what we’re doing here.Your disregard for people’s traditions - the very people you grew up with, in fact.We haven’t known each other very long, but it seems you’re not the person I thought you were.”

 

“C’mon Claire, it was just a family disagreement.Ye can’t honestly say it’s a full on love-in every time ye speak with your folk?”

 

Claire’s chin wobbled ever so slightly as sadness washed over her face.Drawing a shaky breath, she looked straight into Jamie’s eyes.

 

“Just promise me that this is over? No more fighting.”

 

Jamie didn’t know what had upset Claire so much, but he longed to hug her and make it all ok.Instead he just nodded his head in agreement.

 

“Aye, no more fighting”

 

                                                                                   ***

 

 

Jamie hadn’t wanted to break his promise to Claire.In fact he’d done his best to avoid Jenny, but next day he was right back where he started; trading verbal jabs in the middle of Lallybroch field.This time his sister had criticised Jamie’s decision not to return to the Highlands when their father had passed away.Calling him a coward, Jenny raised her eyebrows in challenge; too fuming to resist, Jamie took the bait and another screaming match had ensued.And like every other fight he’d had with Jenny this trip, Claire arrived right in the middle of it.

 

“James.Fraser.” She bit out through clenched teeth.“You will cease this juvenile display at once!”

 

Jamie opened this mouth to respond but she didn’t give him an inch.

 

“I’d close that smug mouth right now if I were you! Seeing as our purpose here seems lost on you, let me spell it out: we’re here to work, not to start arguments with our hosts.I’ll be damned if your petty disagreement with Jenny derails this entire assignment. Is that clear?’

 

Jamie mumbled in reply.

 

“Well?”

 

“Yes, Claire”

 

Jamie stared after her as she stomped off.Why didn’t Claire understand?He couldn't be the first person to get into a stramash with family. _Damn ye Jenny!_ Not only had she been selfish by starting fights with him, she was now also ruining his chances with Claire.In Jamie’s mind, there was no one to blame for any of this but his pig-headed sister.

 

Sighing as he turned around, Jamie looked at the ‘Geillis’ Garden’ stall; Claire had been in there chatting with the owner before coming out to intervene between the two fighting Frasers.Taking a step inside the tent, he decided to take a look around - perhaps understanding what interested Claire would help him understand her better.

 

“Just browsin’ are ye?”

 

Jamie nodded at the red headed woman running the stall; presumably the Geillis from the sign.

 

“So tell me, wee cub; how long have ye had feelings for the curlywig?”

 

“Excuse me?!”

 

“I asked ye how long ye’ve been pining over Claire”

 

Jamie tried his best to look confused by her question but he could feel the tips of his ears pinking.

 

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

“Save the acting for the professionals.I’m guessing she was so angry she missed the big puppy dog eyes ye were givin’ her the entire time she yelled at ye?”

 

Ordinarily he’d have told this Geillis woman to take a hike, but tired from his fights with Jenny and Claire, Jamie let his guard drop a bit.What was the harm in talking to her?It wasn’t as if she’d remember tomorrow.

 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but why do ye care?As ye can probably tell _said curlywig_ is well shot of me at the moment.In fact she’s fair mad with me most days actually”

 

“Well I thought perhaps I could offer ye some advice seeing as ye seem intent on ignoring what’s right in front of ye”

 

“Aye? Go on then”

 

“Well have ye stopped to wonder why she’d always gettin’ so angry at ye?”

 

“That’s easy - she wants me to stop arguing with my sister.But I can’t see what the big deal is.Everyone argues with their family. “

 

“Claire doesn’t”

 

“Oh come on, how is that possible?”

 

“Simple - she hasna got any family.”

 

“She hasn’t?”

 

“No, she told me they died in a car crash some years back.”

 

Claire had no family? Jamie cringed as he thought of all the times he’d put his foot in it without even realising.All the jokes he’d made about wishing he’d never have to see his relatives again.Hearing that he’d been hurting the one person whose opinion he actually gave a damn about was not good, to say the least.How the hell was he supposed to fix this?What was he even fixing anyway? It’s not like he could bring her family back; the whole thing felt hopeless.Jamie wished he could ask someone for advice, but stuck in a perpetual loop of Imbolc who could he go to? Who could provide guidance in such an unbelievable situation?

 

As if on cue the bagpipes struck up again, making Jamie see red. On top of all the existing irritation, the tune the piper played pressed on a wound that was still raw, despite the passing of time.How someone could be so ignorant to play that song here of all places made Jamie furious.Charging over to the piper, he yelled out:

 

“Oi! Stop playing this minute or I’m gonna jam those pipes down ye god damn throat!”

 

The music abruptly ceased, the piper turning around slowly.

 

“Now that’s no way to greet ye Godfather is it, Jamie lad?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, writing this can be a real slog at times (hopefully not a slog to read!). Believe it or not, all the chapters have been planned out I’m just struggling to join the dots on it all. Thanks to everyone who has read and commented; it’s very much appreciated.
> 
> Any feedback is always welcome :-)


	12. The Godfather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie finally finds someone who is willing to listen and offer him some advice. But is Jamie ready to listen? (Answer: no, no he’s not)

The mournful notes from the bagpipe stopped abruptly.In its place a whistling wind vibrated through the air, with icy tentacles that wrapped around any exposed skin.A pair of eyes the colour of slate bore into Jamie’s and for someone who had been screaming in anger only moments before, he was struck completely dumb.

 

Murtagh Fitzgibbons Fraser was Jamie’s first memory.A naturally curious lad, at age three he’d wandered away from a family picnic and fallen backwards into a patch of stinging nettles.Looking up, he saw the bushy-haired man standing over him, body shaking with laughter.Murtagh then picked up the boy by his ankles, carried him back to the picnic and proceeded to smother him in calamine lotion as the rash from the nettles sprung up all over his little legs.For years afterwards, Murtagh loved to recall how when he’d first found Jamie he’d looked like a wee turtle flipped onto his shell, legs flailing madly. 

 

Murtagh was Jamie's dad Brian’s cousin, and having practically grown up together, they'd always remained close.When it came to naming a godfather to his children, Brian hadn’t even considered anyone else.Although fond of a laugh, it was a role Murtagh took very seriously, whether it be a shoulder to cry on or a clip over the ear when the need arose.For all of Jamie’s childhood, his godfather was as much a fixture as the stones that made up Lallybroch itself.As constant as waves upon the shore, there was never a question of whether or not Murtagh would be there, because he always just _was_.Since decamping to London over a decade earlier Jamie hadn’t clapped eyes on the man and so to be standing in front of him again — especially after shooting his mouth off the way he had —threw him completely off kilter. 

 

Murtagh’s reply to Jamie’s silence was a single brow raised in question.When it was apparent there'd be no further response, the dark haired man tilted his head, motioning for his godson to follow; the simple gesture leaving no room for anything but compliance.

 

Murtagh lived in a cottage on the Lallybroch estate and it was to this dwelling that he now took Jamie.Whitewashed with a dark tiled roof; a garden path leading up to the front door was bordered by yellow rose bushes.Ellen’s roses to be precise; the ones at the cottage grown from cuttings taken from the plant growing up the wall of the main house.Murtagh had a rather gruff exterior but those rose bushes were always meticulously maintained, even in the middle of winter like now.

 

The old wooden door creaked as Murtagh pushed it open; Jamie followed him inside and the silence from their walk carried into the sitting room.Situating himself on a worn leather chair, the bushy haired man motioned for Jamie to follow suit.

 

“So, yer back then”

 

“Aye.For work.Not to stay, obviously”

 

“Obviously”

 

The silence stretched on.Jamie because he could think of nothing to say and Murtagh because he was a man of few words and knew his godson would speak when he’d found the right ones.

 

“I’ll fetch us some tea”

 

A large grandfather clock ticked loudly in the corner of the room and Jamie abstractly wondered what happened when everything reset each day; did the clock keep on ticking as though nothing had changed? Did it know it was February 1st for the umpteeth time?

 

Murtagh returned with the tea things, adding two and a half sugars to his godson’s cup.Jamie smiled in recognition.He’d drunk semi-skimmed lattes for years, but being back in Scotland it felt somehow comforting to have his tea prepared the same way as when he was a lad.

 

For a few minutes the only sound was the tinkling of spoons against the cups and a soft slurping.

 

“I erm…wanted to apologise for earlier.I didna know it was you on the pipes.”

 

“And if ye had?”

 

“Well I probably still woulda yelled at ye, but maybe left out the bit about shoving them down your throat…”

 

Jamie’s mouth quirked into a half smile as he chanced a look at his godfather who returned the look with a full smile of his own.

 

“Ye just the same then I see.”

 

Murtagh paused a moment, choosing his next words carefully.

 

“So ye gonna tell me what got ye so riled up today?”

 

“Everything…Nothing”

 

Jamie slumped forwards, elbows on his knees as he ran a hand through his windblown hair.

 

“I’m going places Murtagh, my career’s moving from from strength to strength.But then I’m sent up here for the infernal Imbolc festival and it’s as if the brakes have been put on everything!”

 

“Is Imbolc really that bad? Ye used to love it”

 

“Aye, but that was before”

 

“I ken, lad.Ye and Willie would always…”

 

“Stop, I dinna want to talk about it.I dinna want to talk about **him** ”

 

“Jamie, it’s been almost fifteen years”

 

“I’m aware”

 

Silence returned.Anger pressed on Jamie’s chest, childhood memories washing over him.It was so much easier to keep all these thoughts at bay when he was hundreds of miles away in London; but here? It was as if everything conspired against him to dredge up the feelings he’d so carefully buried. _Why did everything in Scotland have to be so God damn hard?_ Was it any wonder he’d avoided the place for so long?

 

Jamie stood up and began pacing the room.Bookshelves crammed with titles, spines stacked both vertically and horizontally to make use of any available space. A climbing plant, bright green leaves dangling down the shelves.An ancient looking television with family photos perched atop. Jamie’s eyes darted around the room, determined to look at anything but his godfather. Fights with Jenny, repeatedly disappointing Claire, that bloody song on the bagpipes - it was all too much.Hands curling into fists and his breaths shallow, he didn’t notice Murtagh standing next to him until there was a soft nudge to his elbow.

 

“Here lad, have some of this; ye look like ye could use something a bit stronger than tea”

 

Jamie huffed a small laugh and took the proffered tumbler of whisky. Murtagh motioned towards the couch, his godson sitting back down again, a little calmer courtesy of the warming liquid. 

 

“Could hardly to get ye to shut up when ye were a wee lad.Always chasin’ after me, askin’ question after question.Didna matter if I didna ken the answer, ye just kept on.Maybe that’s why ye ended up as a journalist, aye?”

 

“Is this your way of asking me to open up?”

 

“No, verra hard to make ye do anythin’ ye dinna want to”

 

Jamie sighed in defeat.

 

“It's just that every conversation since I got back has ended with me wanting to punch a tree…or a face.It wasn’t my choice to come here and now who the hell knows when I’ll be able to leave?”

 

Oh, how Jamie longed to tell his godfather the truth!But trying to explain some weird time-loop that even he had yet to get his head around was too much for today.

 

“I ken ye didna come back on ye own terms, but is it really so bad?”

 

_Yes, yes it is._

 

“I must say lad, I thought the next time I saw ye it’d be with a wife and some bairns in tow”

 

_Where did that come from?!_

 

Jamie wasn’t sure what to say.As a boy he’d assumed he’d been married by now; after all he was just a couple of months shy of 30 and his own parents had been wed with a bairn before his mam’s twenty-first bithday.But he’d abandoned those plans a long time ago, his focus now on his career.Aside from the odd dalliance, there simply wasn’t time for anything else.

 

_I’d be willing to make time for Claire._

 

“Did none of the English lassies catch ye eye then?”

 

Jamie refilled his whisky but remained silent.

 

“Ah, like that is it? Ye’ve met her but she dinna ken it yet?”

 

Jamie sputtered on the amber liquid that was half way down his throat.

 

“How'd the hell ye know that? I mean…what makes ye say that?”

 

The older man laughed and clapped Jamie on the back.

 

“‘Cos the look on ye face’s the same as ye Da’s when he met ye Mam. Of course in their case she was as smitten wi’ him almost as quickly.But that isna the same here, is it?Well, ye always did like a challenge lad, so whoever she is, I'm sure she's worth it”

 

Murtagh grinned but Jamie only managed a weak smile in return.

 

“Her name’s Claire”

 

“ _Sorcha_ ”

 

_Of course, sorcha, the Gaelic for light; why didn’t I think of that before?_

 

In his haste to reinvent himself, Jamie hadn’t used his Gaelic in years; so the translation for Claire’s name never even crossed his mind.Now that his godfather had mentioned it, he realised it was a perfect summation of what she was to him; a glowing candle in the abyss.

 

“An’ how do ye ken this Claire?”

 

“We work together, she’s actually at Lallybroch for Imbolc. But I’d say more likely to join a nunnery than notice me at this point”

 

“Och lad. I'm sure it isn't all that bad.What have ye done so far to show yer worthy of her?”

 

“Done? What do you mean? Why would I need to? I'm an award winning journalist, essentially the face of BBC 4 and not to sound conceited but I'm not blind. _Girls love the curls_ if ye know what I mean. Not to mention a magazine has described my eyes as ‘ _bluetifal_ ’; that’s pretty clever, aye?Ok, I’ll admit she doesn’t care for my fighting with Janet, but that’s hardly my fault.So if anything, my reputation speaks for itself”

 

“I'm sure it does, laddie”

 

Jamie was too busy waxing lyrical about himself to notice his godfather’s mouth twitching and turning up at the corner. He might’ve been ‘Newsreader of the Year’ two years running, but Jamie was was completely oblivious to the fact that his description of himself sounded more like a Tinder profile than something anyone said in the real world.Swallowing his smirk, Murtagh tried another approach.

 

“Well seeing as the lass is clearly aware of how handsome ye are, perhaps spend some time askin’ about her?”

 

“Like what car she drives?”

 

“Maybe somethin’ a wee bit more meaningful?”

 

“Ye recon? Hmm…Ok, well I’ll have to think on it.”

 

A loud clap of thunder had Murtagh pulling back the curtains and glancing heavenwards.

 

“Well there’s a turn up!Looks like the _Cailleach_ was right again.I expect there’ll be some snow to follow this.Maybe ye in luck; if ye have an extra night here ye could spend time time talkin’ to ye lass”

 

“I hardly think one night is going to be enough to…”

 

Jamie stopped short and began to laugh. _Of course!_ Why hadn’t he thought of it before?He had all the time in the world! And what better use of that time than to work out what made Claire tick?Murtagh’s plan was genius - he’d talk to her - _Sorcha_ \- and learn everything about her. Finally there seemed to be purpose for being stuck in this country backwater; Jamie was going to make Claire fall in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who continues to read, give kudos and comment on this! Unfortunately it’s all too easy to look at other writers’ work and become disparaging of one’s own and not to sound all Sally Fields, but the positive words really mean a lot when I consider chucking it all in every other week!
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter, Jamie has finally found something to do with his time and the plan seems foolproof...;-)

**Author's Note:**

> Having never written anything before I have gone back and forwards about posting this. It’s an idea that has kept bouncing around in my head so I decided to take a leap of faith an give it a go. Thanks for reading!


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